


Cursed Silence (formerly bury my heart)

by ettaberry_tea



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Julian Bashir, Dissociation, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Original Cardassian Characters - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Post-Book: Enigma Tales (Star Trek), Post-Canon Cardassia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Sign Language, Suicidal Thoughts, a ridiculous number of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22015264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettaberry_tea/pseuds/ettaberry_tea
Summary: We may never know the full story as to why Garak was exiled from Cardassia, but there is another mystery to be pieced together. What was the nature of Parmak's involvement with the political group that got him sent to a labour camp? Could these stories be intertwined?Set shortly after Enigma Tales by Una McCormak. Julian Bashir is living with Elim Garak and Kelas Parmak. He's still having long spells of catatonia (trauma related). When he's not catatonic, he's dissociated and still mute.(Rated mature because of descriptions of violence and mature topics).content warning: knives (Sarina Douglas' death), suicidal ideation in chapter 10 (skippable), repeated mention of genocide (the destruction of Cardassia), mention of car collision, execution
Relationships: Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak, Julian Bashir & Kelas Parmak
Comments: 43
Kudos: 33





	1. The other dear doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Kelas Parmak has a terrible day at work.

Dr. Kelas Parmak had to lean against the wall to catch his breath after hurrying from the skimmer park to the clinic. He stepped inside the entrance, pulled off his dust mask, glanced at his wrist chrono and groaned. His first and second appointments had probably already arrived and were now going to watch him cross the waiting room to his office in a walk of shame.

He finished catching his breath and stepped into the clinic.  
He was immediately set upon by a frail but energetic child. “Doctor Parmak! Doctor Parmak!”  
Parmak plastered on a sociable face. “Yari! It’s good to see you!”

Yari jumped up and down. Parmak had never seen her able to do that before.  
“Guess how many seizures I had,” said Yari, grinning with her hands behind her back.  
“How many?”  
Yari held up one finger extatically. “Only one! I can do a cartwheel, wanna see?”

Parmak smiled. It had been difficult to find a medication for Yari’s seizures that she wasn’t allergic to and that actually worked. His smile faltered when he looked at Yari’s mother who looked like she needed one of those federation cups of coffee. “I just need a moment to look over your charts and then we’ll all talk in my office, all right?” he said to Yari.  
Yari’s mother sighed and looked at her chrono.

“Good morning Doctor, did you sleep in?” said the medical receptionist cheerfully as Parmak passed her. Parmak greeted her and slipped past the nursing station where two of his colleagues, deep in conversation, politely nodded hello. Parmak had the inkling that the subject of his projected retirement may have been brought up that morning. Every mistake he made, mixing up forms, or misplacing his medical tricorder, mistakes that everyone made now and again, were increasingly being pointed out with a chuckle and a remark about his advanced age. Parmak found himself treading very carefully around his colleagues, afraid to slip up. This added to his anxiety surrounding having been late.

He sat down heavily in his chair in front of the ancient, federation-style desktop terminal that had no doubt seen much more action-packed days before being donated in support of the Cardassian relief efforts. Parmak tapped his nails on the edge of the terminal. An internal fan switched on to cool the outmoded machine while it searched for Yari’s file.

“Doctor.”

Dr Parmak swiveled in his chair to face the primary care RN, Sheal Rukhaylan. Rukhaylan stood straight with his broad shoulders almost taking up the entire doorway and his hands folded behind his back. He seemed unable to adjust to the civilian life that his war injuries had forced him into.  
“Sir, you are not usually late,” said Rukhaylan awkwardly in his deep, gruff voice.  
Rukhaylan allowed for silence between them as he studied Parmak. Parmak tried not to cower under his piercing eyes. “Are you well?”  
It occurred to him that Rukhaylan was not staring at him condescendingly but examining him out of concern. “I did not sleep well,” Parmak offered.  
He hadn’t slept well because his shoulder had been aching all night. The pain had spread down his arm and up his neck ridge into his jaw. It was still bothering him, and he felt a bit nauseous from it.  
“I’m ready for Yari Gekaar now. Would you mind ushering her in?”  
Rukhaylan nodded and left.

Doctor Parmak had started off in emergency medicine, gaining skills that had unfortunately been quite useful after most of Cardassia had been leveled by the Dominion. He had served in the military as a medic when he was a young man before he received the coveted opportunity to study neurology with leading scientists. His trailblazing research in traumatic brain injuries, that he had conducted while he was in the military, had gained him substantial recognition in the medical community. After the fall of the old regime, Dr. Parmak had branched out from neurology and had studied psychological trauma as well to meet the sudden needs of his patients.

Parmak’s next patient after Yari was a fifty-year-old woman, by the name of Lantha Jayn, whom was led in by her son. She was mostly mute, and she rocked gently where she stood. She had seen horrors during the demise of Cardassia that she was incapable of discussing. No one knew the full story of what had traumatized her so much that she had retreated into herself in such a manner. It had been seven years since Doctor Parmak first accepted her as his patient.

Treating Jayn’s underlying trauma had improved her ability to interact with others, her ability to help in her own care, and had decreased her instances of catanoia. She and her son had come to see Parmak today to discuss referrals for the newly available trauma-informed therapy and rehabilitation programs in the city.

After updating Jayn’s medical files, Parmak stood to retrieve the PADD containing the referrals he had prepared to discuss. He had to sit back down immediately. “Are you all right Doctor?” asked Jayn’s son.

“I’m a bit dizzy actually, but I’ll be fine in a moment.”

Parmak got Jayn’s son to pass him the PADD he’d been reaching for. Parmak tried to hold up the PADD in his right hand, but it felt like a ten-pound weight, so he set it in his lap. His left arm, shoulder and neck were aching to the point where he was distracted and was becoming increasingly nauseous. As soon as Jayn and her son left, he stood, holding the doorframe with his right hand to steady himself, and went and locked himself in the refresher. He did not manage to keep his breakfast down.

Not much escaped Rukhaylan. Even as he sat at the nursing station, assisting a patient over a com link, a section of his mind kept track of the comings and goings around him. He could keep track of the presence of his colleagues and their patients as they moved past his station without even looking up from his work, thanks to his hunter’s eye: the prominent central divot in cardassian foreheads that can sense the bioelectric fields that all living things create. He also had excellent peripheral vision and a keen sense of hearing.

“The hypospray goes right in the corner of the triangle created by your jaw line and your neck ridge,” Rukhaylan was saying to his elderly patient over the communicator.  
He picked up the demo hypospray that sat on his desk and held it to his neck. His patient tried to copy him. “No, you’ve got it against your trachea.”  
“My what?” the elderly man wheezed, squinting at him.  
“Your wind-pipe. You’ve got to place the hypospray more to the side, like this, or it won’t diffuse properly.”

Rukhaylan sensed Dr Parmak’s young patient and her mother passing by his station and out into the waiting room. One of the Cardiologist’s patients was ushered in by the medical receptionist. They both went into exam room two where the medical receptionist would quickly record the patient’s vitals, height and weight for the medical records.

“My wind-what?” asked Rukhaylan’s patient and coughed.

Rukhaylan set the demonstration hypospray down and pointed to his own throat, explaining what a trachea was. He had an endless ocean of patience for ill and confused people. They were much easier to deal with than his military patients who thought that they knew everything and consequently did very stupid things (such as staying up for three days straight, or the time one soldier decided it would be fun to try diffusing kanar into himself with a hypospray).

The cardiologist, Deeyal Tan, strode out of her office and straight towards the nursing station. Rukhaylan winced as she dropped a PADD onto his desk. Then she leaned against the short barrier around Rukhaylan’s desk and slammed her mug of stinky Hevrit juice down on top of it, making Rukhaylan wince again. He glared up at her from under his thick eye ridges, hoping that she’d get uncomfortable and leave him alone. Instead she grinned widely at him. “I’m with a patient,” he said.  
“Oh, I know.” She said and then pointed to the PADD. “I need you to find more studies on arithmyas in andorian neonatals.”  
Research assistant was certaintly not in Rukhaylan’s job description, although Tan seemed to think that it was. She also seemed to think that he was her personal secretary.  
“Please excuse me for one moment,” Rukhaylan said to his elderly patient. To Tan he said, pointedly: “Your patient is waiting for you in exam room two.”  
Tan was already yammering on about her research. Rukhaylan, in his annoyance, almost missed sensing Doctor Parmak staggering out of his office at the far end of the hall. Rukhaylan stood and leaned out over the short barrier around his desk. His intuition was prickling. He called out to him, but the doctor ignored him and went into the refresher. Rukhaylan mentally noted the time, sat down and turned to his com. “I’m going to have to call you back,” he said to his patient. The other man nodded curtly and ended the connection.  
“Doctor,” he said, interrupting the cardiologist’s monologue, “I am conserned about Doctor Parmak. He seems pale, dizzy, and distracted.”  
Tan took a slurp of her discusting fish juice that she knew Rukhaylan was allergic to and set her reeking mug down in front of his face. She shrugged. “Maybe he has issues with his blood pressure? That wouldn’t be uncommon at his advanced age. I’m surprised that he still works full time. One would think that he’d be considering retirement soon. Anyways, as I was saying…” and she was off again, completely forgetting about her patient.

Rukhaylan abruptly stood and walked down the hall. “He’s fine, honestly,” Tan said, “don’t bother him, he just went in a minute ago.”

Rukhaylan had zero reservations about bothering people in the refresher. Bothering people in the refresher was his job. In fact, bothering people in the refresher saved lives. The distressed and dying tended to gravitate towards them, sealing themselves away from any help to spend their last moments vomiting, choking, and gasping for breath in growing panic.

He knocked on the door. “Doctor Parmak,” he said, “I’m concerned about you.”  
He did not get a response. “Parmak.”  
Tan muttered “For the love of Cardassia.”

Rukhaylan fumbled with the mechanical lock release on the door.  
“Just let him be,” said Tan. “The poor old man’s obviously terrified of you.”  
The release was jammed so Rukhaylan just slammed his huge shoulder into the door. It sprung open a foot and then struck against something. He shoved his way through.

Doctor Parmak was lying face down, awkwardly sprawled on the floor, his feet in the way of the door. Rukhaylan wiped out his medical tricorder and scanned him. The doctor’s blood pressure had crashed and his heart was fibulating. “Tan, get in here!”  
He expertly rolled Parmak face up, pushing Parmak’s feet away from the door. The cardiologist looked through the doorway. She shrieked and jumped backwards. Rukhaylan did not have time to consider the irony of that. He began chest compressions. “Doctor,” he barked, “I need you to go get the red emergency med kit that is on the wall behind the nursing station.”  
Tan nodded and ran.

Rukhaylan managed to get the attention of the other staff by shouting in his gruff, military voice. One of them contacted the Union hospital. Two others came to assist Tan and Rukhaylan.

They worked on Parmak for twenty minutes.

“He’s breathing!” shouted the general practitioner who had come to help. Parmak’s chest rose and fell weakly but continuously. Rukhaylan put an oxygen replicating mask over his patient’s nose and mouth. Parmak blinked and looked up at him with a confused expression.  
“Welcome back,” said the gp, rubbing Parmak’s arm compassionately. “Let’s get him onto his side. Are we ready with that medical transport?”

Rukhaylan gently rolled Parmak into a recovery position. “I’ll go with him to the Union hospital,” he volunteered. The gp handed him a transporter beacon from the med kit and strapped one onto Parmak’s wrist. They both dematerialized and vanished in a bright, shimmering light.

* * *

Kelas Parmak, post book: Enigma Tales 


	2. The Matter of a Good Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelas Parmak wakes up and has to deal with having almost died.

“I must speak with his doctor, this is unacceptable.”  
“Castellan, the attending for this ward is with another patient. Would you have him abandon them simply because you wish to speak with him?”  
“How is it remotely appropriate that there’s only one doctor for all of these patients? I must say I find that quite concerning.”

Parmak took in his surroundings slowly. He was dazed from being under anesthesia. He took a deep, painful breath in. Everything ached. His ribs felt like they’d been yanked apart and strung back together. His throat felt like someone had shoved a stake down it. He swallowed. His mouth was dry.

He smiled fondly at Garak.  
“Elim, calm down,” he said in a raspy voice.

Garak turned to look at him, his eyes full of pain and worry. Parmak closed his eyes. He felt Garak take his hand gently. He squeezed his partner’s fingers.  
“You scared me,” Garak admitted quietly. He stroked Parmak’s hair with his other hand. “Just rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”  
“You mean you’ll badger all of the hospital staff for me,” Parmak teased weakly.

»———— o ————«

Parmak stayed in the union hospital for three days until his surgeon was satisfied that his new heart was functioning well enough. It was a relief to go home. Garak had a bed made up for him on the main floor because he wasn’t supposed to be exerting himself climbing stairs while his body recovered from the heart attack and adjusted to having a new heart. It was a bit odd sleeping in the living room. Now he relaxed on a bench in the garden that grew where the house of Enabran Tain had once stood. Julian Bashir was next to him in a hover chair. It had taken a lot of encouragement to get Garak to stop avoiding Bashir. At first, the sight of his catatonic friend caused Garak too much grief and he had opted to instead write letters that would never be read. It had been months before Parmak had gotten him to try spending time with Bashir. Garak started reading to Bashir the terrible Cardassian literature that he was so fond of. “He’s not dead or gone. The man you loved is very much here with us, but he’s injured and he’s not going to go back to how he was before, even if he regains his abilities to communicate and care for himself. It’s all right to grieve that, but he’s still the same person he’s always been and always will be. If I were in his position, I’d want you to understand that.”  
Garak was still grieving. He still seemed awkward and sad whenever he tried to interact with Bashir and, as always, got no response. He still viewed Bashir as an empty shell of what he had been.

Parmak did not mind Bashir’s silence. He had never known Bashir any other way. Parmak read Bashir’s many brilliant papers and talked to Bashir about them. It was a way of getting to know him. He became comfortable with their one-sided conversations.

In the garden, a few feet away, Garak was on his hands and knees, patting the soil around a freshly planted Kakranish bush. “There must be something macabre and poetic about watching your own heart be buried amongst the rubble of Tain’s house,” said Garak.  
He sat back on his heals and looked over at Parmak.  
“By your hands no less,” said Parmak and grinned at him.  
Garak fetched some water and poured it at the base of the new bush. He began finding and placing heavy, flat stones around it to discourage wild animals from trying to dig it up. He and Parmak fell into a comfortable silence. Parmak leaned back and felt the warm sun on his face. The air quality was passable that day, which was rare.

A tear slid down Parmak’s cheek. He drew in a heavy breath. Garak set down his garden implements and looked at him. “Kelas?”

“I don’t want to go that way,” said Parmak.  
Garak tilted his head.

“When I die, I want to know that I’m dying. I don’t want to just suddenly drop dead, far away from you, lying on my face in the refresher.”

Garak nodded. Culturally, he understood. For Cardassians, the good death was a slow one, preferably one drawn out for days. One needed time to complete shri-tal, to pass on their secrets and personal vendettas to those who were to outlive them.

“I had no idea when I got up that morning how close to death I was and that scares me. The signs were all there I suppose, but they escaped me completely.”

“That is … most disturbing.” Garak glanced at the bush and back at Parmak with his characteristic wide eyes.

“Yes,” said Parmak, “I don’t like the randomness of it all. It makes me uneasy. Any day could be my last, or your last for that matter. Either of us could be gone tomorrow without warning.”

“I must say, it was quite a shock to get that phone call from the hospital,” said Garak. “I was worrying about so many things that day, but your health, my dear Kelas, was far from my mind.”

Parmak looked down at his lap. His tears fell on his hands. Garak sat down beside him on the bench and put his arms around him. Parmak leaned into him. They both cried a little. They needed to.

»———— o ————«

They returned to the Residence of the Castellan for the evening. It was rare, these days, that Garak had any opportunity to take a day off. Even when the counsel wasn’t in session, he had hundreds of ambassadors, politicians, military officials, heads of various departments, and lobbyists fighting for his time. Everyone wanted the ear of the Castellan.  
Garak replicated three plates of earth-style basmati rice and scooped the alsha greens he had just steamed onto each plate. He opened a package of raw, oceanic etari fish and divvied up the contents. “Kelas, do you want telspar with yours?”

Parmak, who was sitting at the small kitchen table behind Garak, indicated that he would.  
Garak scooped a third of the wriggling contents of a telspar egg on top of Parmak’s food as garnish and set the plate in front of his partner. “I don’t suppose you want any of this, my dear doctor,” Garak said, addressing Doctor Bashir. “Ah, actually you were surprisingly fond of Gagh. You’ll like telspar then.”  
Garak set the two other plates and a bottle of Yamok sauce on the table. He sat down across from Parmak. Bashir sat in between them. His cataplexia had lifted so he was able to move, but he was stuck in a dissociative state and still wasn’t able to communicate or interact much. He rocked gently in his chair, hugging himself in a self-soothing manner.  
Parmak poured Kanar for Garak and himself. Garak loaded a spoon-full of rice and fish. He took Bashir’s right hand and placed it on the handle of the spoon. “Here, give it a try,” he encouraged, supporting Bashir’s hand.  
Doctor Bashir looked at the spoon with a confused expression. Thanks to his dissociation, he couldn’t quite remember where he was or how he’d gotten there. He looked up at Garak and turned his head to look around the room. It was familiar, but his brain would not let him travel to the past to retrieve any helpful memories. The past was off limits. He felt safe. He lifted the spoon and tentatively put the rice and fish in his mouth. It needed seasoning.

Parmak smiled fondly at Garak helping Bashir. He took a bite of his food and a sip of Kanar. He leaned back in his chair and sighed contently. Garak looked at him, recognizing when his partner had something to say. “I’ve made a decision,” said Parmak.  
“Oh? And what might that be?” said Garak, turning to Bashir and prompting him to take another bite.  
“I don’t want to wait until my deathbed to complete shri-tal. I think that doing so now would alleviate some of the…” Parmak paused. “… some of the anxiety I’m feeling.”  
Parmak saw the look on Garak’s face. “Oh, I’m not intending to die anytime soon! I fully intend to live far into my 100s.”  
Garak considered the prospect. “This way you can be sure that you had your chance to tell all, regardless of how you end up dying.”  
“Exactly,” said Parmak, and took a bite of his food.  
“How unconventional. So, tell me, my dear Kelas, what enemies do you fear will outlive you?”  
“Doctor Deeyal Tan,” said Parmak in mock seriousness, “She’s been eating the lunches that I leave in the office food-chilling-unit and denying it.”  
Garak reached across the table and took Parmak’s hand. “I swear to you that she will live to regret such an abhorrent transgression.”  
They grinned at each other.

Doctor Bashir filled his spoon with rice and took a bite without guidance. The two Cardassians started debating. They let the food on their plates get cold. Bashir smirked at this and tried some of the telspar. It was more like caviar than gagh.

“Kelas, you are like an open door. What could you possibly say that hasn’t already been said?”  
“You are so convinced that I don’t have any secrets. Really.”  
“You can’t keep secrets. I know exactly what you’re up to immediately when you get any kind of idea in your head. Your face shouts your intentions even when you are silent.”  
“If I’m really that easy to read, then how do you explain that I’m able to beat you at kotra?”

It was kind of cute to see Garak enthusiastically and flirtatiously debating with someone who was obviously very fond of him. Bashir finished his plate while the two of them insulted each other affectionately.

Garak, after finally finishing his fish, stood stacked the plates and cutlery. Parmak passed him his. “Since apparently you know everything there is to know about me, I guess I’ll just choose Julian to share shri-tal with,” Parmak said, sassily.  
“He certainly would love that. Just remember the difference between your secrets and my secrets.”  
“Oh, and what difference would that be?”  
Garak laughed and turned to clean up the kitchen. “I’m thankful that I’m not still in the order. You’re a weakness I certainly can’t afford.”

Parmak took Bashir’s hand and got him to stand. “It’s good to see you moving again Julian,” said Parmak. “Your last catatonia spell lasted seven days. You must be quite sore from staying still for so long.”  
Bashir looked at Parmak, confused. Catatonia? He was definitely sore all over. His muscles were aching from just standing. He leaned on Parmak’s hand for support and turned around to see the rest of the room. Garak was putting the plates in the small, federation-style matter reclamation unit. A memory flashed urgently into Bashir’s conscience. Section 31 had access to all machines and devices with federation technology. _They know where I am, they’re coming for us._  
“Julian?” Garak’s partner sounded concerned.  
Garak turned around to look at them both. There was a knife in his hand.

_Suddenly Garak lunged forwards and slashed his partner’s throat. Blood splattered Bashir, pulsing from the man’s carotid artery as he fell to the ground, clutching his neck and gurgling his dying breaths. Garak’s eyes were full of horror as he mechanically stabbed himself again and again through the ribs like a morbid, twisted automaton._

“I think we’ve lost him once more,” said Garak.  
Parmak freed his fingers from Bashir’s death-grip, grimacing.  
Garak looked at the small knife in his hand that he had used to cut the alsha greens and etari, connecting the dots. He quickly put it in the matter reclamation unit and got rid of it. “I’m sorry Doctor,” he said, “I wasn’t going to stab you. I assure you, you are quite safe.”

The voices of the two Cardassians sounded far away. Bashir felt like he had fallen into a deep pit, with the real world being a small circle of light above him. Violent images flashed in his mind. Sarina cut into herself again and again and again and Bashir was held hostage in his own mind, forced to watch her and unable to do anything. Unable to escape. Unable to stop it. Unable to scream. Helpless.  
His body was stiff, frozen with his arms bent at 45 degrees. He barely registered something cold being pressed against his hand. “Julian.”  
Someone was attempting to reach him. “Try to focus on the ice cube I’m holding against your palm.”  
Sarina reached out to Julian with a bloody hand. The ice was wet and cold. Her eyes were full of horror. “Listen to my voice. Listen to the sounds around you.”  
Bashir could hear someone nervously tapping their nails on the table. The sound was far away. Blood poured from Sarina’s wounds, pooling about her lifeless corpse.  
“Try to focus on your senses.”  
 _Serina!_ He tried to scream.  
Parmak put the melting ice cube on the table and rubbed Bashir’s hands with his thumbs, trying to draw him back into the present.  
“I should have realized that knives could be a trigger for him,” said Garak, “giving what we know about what happened.”  
“Well, now we know,” Parmak said gently. “No knives around Julian.”  
Garak left the kitchen and came back with the tablet that Parmak used to keep track of Bashir’s health. He opened up the section that listed Bashir’s triggers and added ‘knives.’ The list so far was security guards, flashing lights, metallic clanging sounds, and mentioning Serina Douglas. ‘Knives’ was so obvious. Why hadn’t they thought of knives?

Bashir was frozen like a statue. The flashback he was experiencing faded and was replaced by a thick, smothering blanket of terror and shock. Serina. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. They felt like someone else’s cheeks.

After trying some more to draw Bashir back out without success, Garak and Parmak helped him sit down in his hover chair. Bashir was stiff but weirdly posable like a giant doll. Garak pushed Bashir’s arms into a more comfortable position. He brought him back upstairs and parked him in front of the window. The sun was setting on Cardassia. The pollution in the atmosphere, for all the trouble that it caused, created a gorgeous sunset. Garak turned on a recording of Vic Fontaine for Bashir to listen to. He put a hand on the other man’s shoulder and then went downstairs again.  
He gave Parmak a hug. “I’m tired of being sad,” he said quietly.

Parmak pressed his cheek against Garak’s affectionately. Vic Fontaine’s gentle voice wafted down from Bashir’s room. The two of them began to slowly rock side to side.

* * *

Kelas Parmak, Autistic Julian Bashir, Post Book: Enigma Tales 


	3. Dinner With a Side of Democracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Kelas Parmak and Elim Garak became "friends."

_“A real apology would be centred in relieving our pain, not your people’s guilt.  
We want the Cardassian union to take responsibility for all of the suffering Bajorans have endured without excuses and without accusing us of lying.  
We want those individuals who took wicked pleasure in oppressing us, in kidnapping our children, raping us, torturing us, experimenting on us, to have to face their crimes in court. We want justice.  
Cardassia should not expect a single grain of forgiveness until you have proven beyond all doubt that what has come to pass shall never be permitted to happen again.”_

-Vedek Lanelle of Bajor, spoken to Former Cardassian Oppressor Elim Garak at a conference on the Bajoran Occupation, 2372

* * *

“I feel the need to justify why I live with Elim.”

Parmak sat with Bashir in the living room. They both were looking out the window. Bashir rocked himself gently. He held Kukalaka on his lap. He felt safe and cared for, but mildly confused.

“Sometimes I worry that you must think me naïve,” said Parmak.

Bashir looked over at Parmak. He didn’t usually make any indication that he heard anything being said. Parmak smiled at him like they were two old friends.

“It was hard to forgive him and harder still to feel safe around him. The years that I spent in the labor camp, the camp that he had a hand in sending me to, have damaged my body and mind. Time was stolen from me, time that I will never get back.”

Bashir looked out the window. Parmak leaned back in his chair.

“I knew him vaguely when he was a young man. I first met him when he was twenty something. He was a huge bastard,” Parmak grinned wickedly, “in both senses.”

That got a small smile from Bashir. Parmak noticed and laughed.

“And he seemed to desperately need to impress Enabran Tain, not in an obvious, posturing way, but in a quiet way. He was callous and professional, highly effective and discreet, and Tain praised him. Elim was sustained on that praise. Should Tain show his displeasure, well… I don’t think Elim got much sleep until Tain was pleased again. His self-esteem was secure in Tain’s pocket. But he was young! And Idealistic, and dare I say fresh? No, he didn’t scare me, I thought he was ridiculous back then. Oh, and, I should mention, he honestly believed that he could make himself invisible. I’m not making this up. He was dead convinced that if he just stood still long enough, nobody could see him.”

Parmak shook his head, smiling to himself.

“How could I possibly convince you of my talent, when it’s impossible to show you what ‘invisible’ looks like?”

Parmak flinched and turned quickly to look over his shoulder. Garak was half reclined on a sofa with a cup of tea in his hand. He raised the cup and nodded his head in greeting. Parmak sighed in an exaggerated manner. “Perhaps he hasn’t changed much. Why do I live with him again?”

Garak crossed the room and pressed hands with Parmak. “You’re back early,” observed Parmak.  
“The Trill ambassador I was supposed to speak with got into a duel with a Klingon. His office rescheduled.”

Garak pulled up a chair to sit on the other side of Bashir. He angled himself so that he could see the entrance to the room, as was his habit. “So, this is what you’re up to now that you’re staying home recuperating. You just sit in the living room all day, gossiping with the good doctor?” Garak took a sip of tea in a saucy manner. “I won’t deny that my twenties were-hmmm- not my best vintage, however,” Garak looked sideways at Bashir, “Kelas, back then, was outright boring-”  
“Boring?!”  
“- Terribly, boringly serious. He had no sense of humour.” Garak looked pointedly at Parmak. “I feel that deserves mentioning.”  
“No sense of humour?”

“Oh, and doctor, he was outright prude! He had no social life to speak of. He practically lived in his lab. He’d go home late at night, and show up early the next day, every single day. The only action he got was from the books he occasionally read.”  
“Did I add nosy stalker to my list? I think that goes without saying.”

Bashir was smiling at his knees and rocking gently.

“I’m trying to tell Julian how we ended up living together,” Parmak said to Garak.

Parmak looked out the window, thinking. Garak got up andpoured Parmak and himself a glass of Kanar each. He handed the glass to his partner. Parmak took a sip and began his story.

“I was not able to look Garak in the eyes for a long time. When he interrogated me, it was his eyes that broke me.”  
Parmak paused took a sip of his Kanar. “When I saw him standing there with the rest of the medical unit, waiting to be deployed, I treated him in a cold, professional manner and resolved to only speak to him when it was necessary.”

Parmak looked at Garak thoughtfully. “I was surprised that he volunteered with a medical unit. He turned out to have a surprising base of knowledge in emergency medicine and I found him to be as competent as a paramedic. Did you teach him Doctor? I have no idea where he learned how to save lives. It seems contrary to his history as an operative.”

Garak smiled at Parmak. “The good Doctor did not teach me, although I admit that spending time with him did stir up my curiosity in medicine. For a while, it was a hobby of mine.”

“Oh, a hobby? In the same way that engineering is a hobby to you? I suppose you just happened to hear about prehospital airway management while hemming someone’s trousers?”

“My dear Kelas, you would be surprised at what you can learn hemming trousers.”

Parmak looked at Bashir. “Julian, he’s insufferable.”

Bashir wanted to join in teasing Garak, but his mind was having trouble making words together so he just grinned and rocked.

»———— o ————«

Parmak had managed to stabilize the baby and it was transported to the medical centre. He had seen so many dead children. He had seen so many dying children who could not be saved. For some reason, it was the child who survived that broke him. He buried his head in his hands, and, sitting amongst the rubble, he wept. His team sat in a depressed silence. He felt their comradeship in their quiet presence. Garak was included in that comradeship. Despite their histories, they had a unified purpose. Perhaps it would be that rebuilding Cardassia would bring a sense of responsibility to all parties to nurture and protect their new society. Perhaps even democracy could take root in such a climate, stranger things did happen.

Garak approached Parmak that evening after they had successfully rescued and healed another trapped victim. He handed Parmak some rations and then sat next to him in silence.  
Parmak did not move away. After a while, Garak said, “Sometimes I wish that I had become a grounds keeper.”  
Parmak stayed silent. He took a sip of water.  
“I want to apologize to you, but sorry seems superficial.”  
Garak sighed. He was different, older, sadder. “What do you need from me Doctor?”

Parmak considered him carefully. “I don’t know.” He said.  
Another moment passed.  
“You were right to oppose the Central Command. You were brave to do so. I was definitely on the wrong side of history. The old Cardassia must never return.”

“If that is how you feel, then we have common ground,” said Parmak.

“I wish that I’d been as brave as you. I wish that I had listened to the guilt I sometimes felt instead of crushing it to death with dogma and misplaced loyalty. I’m sorry.”

“I’m still healing from being in the labor camp.”

Garak bobbed his head once in acknowledgement.

“I knew Enabran Tain. I can see how you became a cog in the machine.”

“He didn’t exactly control me. I definitely made my own choices.”

“I know.”

Parmak studied his hands. “I forgive you. I need to.”

They watched the sun set on their broken world.

»———— o ————«

Parmak walked around the rubble in the street belonging to what had once been the Paldar sector, home to those who served the Cardassian government. The occasional eerie wall with blown out windows was all that was left of the houses. It was raining, a rare occasion on Cardassia Prime. The dust that had settled was turning into a goopy muck that sucked at Parmak’s boots.

Parmak checked his tricorder to figure out his exact location. He was looking for the address that had once been the home of the head of the Obsidian order. Garak lived there now, supposedly. Parmak was coming to check on him. They had been called to assist a child found alive in the wreckage of a school and had stayed to help dig out more dead children. It had been emotionally taxing on the whole medical unit. Garak, in particular, was distant and distracted. One of the other first responders had said later that they had heard Garak muttering “shut up, shut up, shut up,” over and over.

It became clear that he was definitely not all right when he suddenly whipped around and raised his hand as if to strike someone who wasn’t there. Parmak had tried to order him to go home, but he insisted on staying. He wouldn’t take the mild sedative Parmak had offered either.

Parmak’s tricorder indicated that he was getting close. There were no signs to go by, so he was relying on the coordinates Garak had provided alone.  
He stopped when he reached the coordinates. To his left was a pile of rubble that had once been Tain’s house. Parmak vaguely recognized the once grand pathway leading up to where the front door had been. He walked up the pathway and made his way around the rubble to what would have been the backyard. A shack came into view. It had probably been a gardening shed at one time. It’s roof had been repaired.

As more of the back yard came into view, Parmak saw a figure lying on the ground.  
“Garak!” he called out.

He hurried over to him. Garak was lying on his front, half submerged in mud. Parmak squatted by his head and checked to see that he was breathing. “It’s all gone,” Garak murmered.

His eyes didn’t focus on anything. Parmak scanned him for injuries. He was physically all right. Mentally, on the other hand…

“I came to check on you,” said Parmak, touching Garak’s arm.

“There’s nothing to go back to.”

“I know,” Parmak said sadly.

Garak didn’t seem to want to move.

“Let’s get you inside,” said Parmak.

He pushed Garak up into a sitting position and hooked his arms under the other man’s. He dragged Garak through the mud, bit by bit, and into the shack.

»———— o ————«

The shack was about the size of a small office and made out of brick with a metal roof. Garak had been sleeping on a federation style sleeping mat. He had not shown up to a devastated planet empty handed which was wise. He had a small trunk with a Starfleet symbol on it. It was open and half unpacked. Garak had brought a small heating unit with him. Nights in the desert climate of Cardassia Prime could get chilly. Parmak switched the heating unit on.

Garak was caked in mud. He sat propped up against the wall facing the door. He was dazed. Parmak knelt in front of him and held his elbows in a comforting symbol of comradeship. “I’m here for you,” he said.  
“There’s no home for them to go back to.”  
“Who?”  
“The orphans. They want me to bring them home.”  
Garak looked up at Parmak. “What’s the point?” he asked.  
Parmak avoided Garak’s eyes, choosing to look down instead.  
“Why do we save people? There’s no Cardassia left. Why would anyone want to live anymore? We have no future.”  
“We will build a new Cardassia,” said Parmak.  
Garak raised his hand in disagreement. “Cardassia is dead.”

Parmak helped Garak change into some dry clothes and made him a cup of tarkalian tea with the small camp stove Garak had brought in his trunk. Garak sipped the tea, lost in thought. Parmak sat close to the heating unit, trying to dry off.

“You can borrow some of my clothes if you like,” said Garak suddenly.  
It had taken him a while to notice that the doctor was probably quite uncomfortable. Learning to be empathetic, like any skill, was going to take constant practice, and Garak had begun practicing. He was progressing slowly. Any natural care for others had been purposely stamped out of him in his youth. Garak could observe other people’s experiences, but caring? Garak wasn’t sure if he was capable of experiencing that. Bashir had told him that being a good person was about what you chose to do, not how you felt inside.

Parmak smiled. “Thank you, I will.”

He selected a dark red tunic with black and gold panels from Garak’s trunk. “This looks like it was created by hand, not replicated.”  
“Ah, sewing is a hobby of mine.”  
“Did you create all of your clothes? Your wardrobe is quite tasteful.”  
“I had quite a bit of time on my hands.”

Parmak changed into Garak’s clothes. They were a bit baggy on him. He sat down on Garak’s sleeping mat. “Thank you, I feel much more comfortable.”

The rain drummed loudly against the metal roof. It came in gusts. Garak watched the puddles form. He left the door open as usual, which meant a bit of the wind and rain came in, but it wasn’t a huge problem.

He was no longer experiencing hallucinations, but the future was weighing heavily on his mind. He worried about the potential for plagues and starvation. He pictured the children he had helped save from the collapsed buildings becoming sick and dying. He wondered what future they had if they survived. One of destitution. _We will live in slums and rely on the federation for our every need. The federation would like that. We’re no threat to them if we are reduced to beggars._

He noticed that the doctor was studying him. “I think you need a distraction,” Parmak said. “If you don’t have anything to do when you come home but sit and think sad thoughts, sadness is going to become your hobby. It would be better to be sad and be doing something.”

“My dear doctor,” Garak said with an exasperated sigh, “by the end of the day, I have neither the energy nor motivation to do anything but sit and think sad thoughts.”

“Well, perhaps, to start, you can tell me about your life on deep space 9. I’d love to hear what it’s like to live with so many different humanoids all in one place.”

Garak felt annoyed because he’d have to stop brooding over the future if he cooperated. _Fine, I’ll play along._

He told Parmak about the time that he and Bashir had been trapped in a James Bond holo-program due to a transporter accident that jeopardized the safety of the entire senior staff. He did feel a bit better after telling the story, but his mind quickly filled with dark thoughts again.

The rain continued as the world outside grew dim. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” asked Garak. “I have enough rations for the both of us. It would be a shame if you walked home in the rain. Do you even own a change of clothes?”

“Everything I owned is buried in a collapsed apartment building,” said Parmak.

“Where are you living right now?”

“There’s tents by the clinic for doctors. We all take turns sharing them.”

“That does not sound at all restful,” said Garak, fumbling about for some military rations.

“It isn’t, but it’s relatively safe compared to sleeping in the streets.”

Garak heated up the military rations. They ate them with more tea. He decided to tell Parmak more about Bashir.

“He thought The Never-Ending Sacrifice was boring!”

“Well, although I do occasionally enjoy repetitive epics, I can see how he may have found the constant subservience to the state rather dry.”

Garak considered Parmak, who took a bite of the rations almost pointedly. _Was he intentionally initiating a potentially quite heated debate or was he just expressing his opinion,_ Garak wondered. _If it’s the former, do I want to engage?_ “My dear doctor, there is far more to The Never-Ending Sacrifice then subservience to the state. It is about selflessness, about serving a higher cause than one’s personal desires. Humans place too high a value on their personal desires, so they simply can’t relate, but surely you, a dedicated Cardassian doctor, can. Have you not worked tirelessly for the sake of the Cardassian people?”

“I think that there is something to be said about balancing one’s dedication to Cardassia with one’s own personal goals. Perhaps humans have something to teach us.”

“Ah, I forgot that I was talking to a political dissident who had a stack of federation books in his closet.”

 _Was it too soon to casually mention the past like that?_ Parmak laughed and Garak relaxed.

“My dear Garak, how the past might have unraveled differently if you had read some after confiscating them instead of waiting until your exile. Being exposed to a different perspective of the universe, instead of self-indoctrinating by reading Cardassian literature, would have done wonders for you.”

“Self-indoctrinating! I believe, my dear doctor, that you are no less indoctrinated than I, but it is federation ideals that fill your pretty little head.”

“And what is so wrong with federation ideals? With democracy? With freedom?”

“Ah, democracy. You know doctor, I do believe we would have occupied Bajor even if we had a democracy, because, the sad truth is, the majority of Cardassia was pro-occupation. A democracy sounds all well and good, but, in practicality, the mob is just as bad as a dictator.”

“Yes, which is why the rule of majority must be restricted by the rights of minorities.”

“There’s just one problem with that. How do you propose to convince a ruling majority to give rights to minorities?”

“The rights have to be included in the constitution that gives the majority the right to rule.”

“How cerebral, how idealistic. Did our supposed rights to life and liberty stop the Jem Hadar from leveling our homes? No, in this universe, the only people who have rights are the people who can enforce them.”

“The universe is not a government, so your comparison is insufficient. A democratic government kept in check by a functional justice system has proven to create a free and fair society in the federation, so why would it not work in Cardassia?”

“The federation is nowhere near a functional democratic society. That is merely the front that they project. Their elected representatives are in a constant power struggle with Starfleet and section 31. Behind the scenes, they kill dissidents just as we did, they’re just more discreet about it. No, there is no such thing as a functional democracy in this quadrant.”

“Then what do you propose? I don’t see you coming up with a better alternative.”

“Don’t you see doctor? There’s no incorruptible government. Power always corrupts. Any government powerful enough to be functional will not permit its power to be meaningfully limited. There’s always a loophole for emergencies, one need only create one, and then democracy shows it’s true face.”

Parmak stood up and looked out the door. His back was to Garak. “How simple it must be to be a pessimist.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You never have to come up with any solutions.”

Garak stood up too. “Solutions! What good are solutions? What good is dreaming about a hypothetical Cardassia that could never exist in practicality?”

“Your arrogance is insufferable.” Parmak put a hand to his head as if he had a headache.

“And you’re resorting to insulting me because you’ve ran out of arguments,” taunted Garak.

“Arguments? No amount of my arguments could penetrate your dense mind.”

“I only seem dense to you because I won’t join you in clinging naively to federation ideals despite all evidence contrary.”

“Evidence? You call your own opinions evidence? You’re impossible.” Parmak picked up his medical bag. “I’m leaving.”

He walked out of the door into the rain.  
Garak grabbed his arm, pulling him back under the overhang of the shed’s roof.  
“Put your filthy, bastard hands away!” Parmak looked Garak squarely in the eyes, hatefully.

Suddenly he grabbed Garak’s shoulders and shoved him backwards against the door frame. Garak braced himself to be punched. Instead Parmak nipped his neck ridge, making him gasp in surprise. Garak dug his nails into Parmak’s arms. They stared each other down.

Garak was the first to break eye contact. “I suppose this is what you meant when you prescribed me a distraction,” he said with a smirk, looking down at Parmak’s arms that were roughly pinning him in place.

“My dear Garak, not in the slightest,” said Parmak.

“I think we’re far past the point where it would be more than appropriate to call me Elim,” said Garak.

“My dear Elim,” said Parmak, loosening his grip and smiling. “It seems that debating governmental structures has gotten us both quite… excited.”

Parmak allowed Garak to pull him back through the door of the shack. “Then let us see what we can do about… relieving some of that excitement, shall we?”

»———— o ————«

“He kept coming to ‘check’ on me,” said Garak, “but really he wanted an excuse to proselytize his federation ideals until I had sex with him to make him shut up.”

Parmak laughed and stood up. “Poor, poor Elim.”  
He went around Bashir and stood in front of Garak. Garak pressed palms with him. They looked into each other’s eyes. The eyes that had broken Parmak and got him to confess were the same eyes that now gazed at him with gentle affection. Parmak didn’t feel fear anymore.

“It’s his dedication to Cardassia,” said Parmak. “That’s why I share my life with him. We both hold a desire to rebuild our society and to shape it into its best version. I just had to convince him that democracy was the path to doing that.”

Garak stood up from his chair and put his arms around his partner. He went up on his toes and rubbed his nose into Parmak’s hunter’s eye. Parmak grinned at the sensation. He stroked Garak’s jaw and neck-ridge lovingly.

»———— o ————«

Parmak had trouble sleeping that night. He opened his eyes to find the vision of an old friend sitting at the edge of his bed. “Reshmi,” said Parmak, sleepily addressing the woman.

“You’re not allowed to join me yet,” she said, touching Parmak’s arm.

“I have more to do,” said Parmak.

Reshmi got up and appeared standing over the other side of the bed, looking at Garak sleeping. She nodded approvingly. “He has no idea with whom he’s in bed with,” she said and smirked. “Are you ever going to let him in on the full irony?”

Parmak sighed and closed his eyes. “Your memory will not die with me, I promise.”

* * *

Kelas Parmak, Post Book: A Stitch in Time by Andrew Robinson, Post Book: Enigma Tales 


	4. No wrong way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parmak's stressed out. Also the medical receptionist and the RN need to get a room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work in progress.

The receptionist, Juan Avezi, glanced over at the nursing station and put one foot up on her office chair. Rukhaylan was gone from his desk. Good. She didn’t want to trouble him. Avezi just wanted to get the box of data rods off of the high shelf behind her without having to rely on anyone else for help.

She hopped up onto her office chair and held onto the shelf with her hands, looking for the right box.

“Avezi!” Rukhaylan barked. “For the love of Cardassia!”

Avezi slowly turned to look at her colleague. “I thought you were with a patient.”

“You’re a fool,” he said, touching her elbow to steady her. “Why didn’t you ask for help? You’re going to break your neck.”

“I’m not!” she insisted. “You’re just obsessive about workplace safety. I can’t do anything without you telling me off.”

Rukhaylan touched his temple melodramatically. “You’re going to give me an aneurism with that height complex of yours. Get a step ladder or something.”

“Height complex!” Avezi spluttered. “You’re the one with a height complex! You have to show everyone just how tall you are all the time!”

Rukhaylan took the box down that Avezi had been trying to reach. He didn’t even have to stand on his toes to do so. Avezi frowned at her annoyingly handsome co-worker, with his toned arms and sharp jawline. He looked back at her, sternly, with his dark eyes that could stare right through her like an x-ray. He set the box of data rods on her desk.

“I’m serious. Stop standing on your chair.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Doctor Parmak was very late. He had called the clinic ahead of time so that Avezi could inform his patients. He walked at a calm pace through the skimmer park, holding Bashir’s hand.

“I suppose the positive side to this whole fiasco is that you get to see where I work. Perhaps it will be good for you. I’ll show you my research and introduce you to my friends. You must miss practicing medicine sometimes. I know I would.”

Doctor Bashir didn’t acknowledge what Parmak had said, but he had a hop in his step that Parmak recognized as an indication that he was in a good mood.

They came to the medical building’s entrance. “I work in the main clinic. There’s five other specialists and four general practitioners. Two of the general practitioners do walk-ins.”

The doors slid open without prompting and Parmak guided Bashir into the main foyer. There was a turbo-lift at the end of a short hallway.  
“There’s the pharmacy, Respiratory Care, and Reproductive Health clinics to the right, and then the facility I work in is to the left.”

Parmak helped Bashir remove his dust mask.

“There’s a rehabilitation facility on the second floor. The occupational therapist who comes to visit you, her office is up there. They also have specialists in prosthetics and pain management. Oh, and there’s a lab and a medical device reprocessing center in the basement.”

Parmak led Bashir into the waiting area of the main clinic. There were six people waiting. They all glanced at Parmak’s Terran companion. Parmak recognized one as one of his patients.

The medical receptionist and primary care RN appeared to be bickering. They stopped and looked questioningly at Julian.

“This is Julian. His support worker is sick, and I couldn’t find anyone else to take care of him on a short notice, so I brought him with me. Julian, this is Avezi and nurse Rukhaylan.”

“It’s nice to meet you Julian,” said Avezi politely.  
Rukhaylan nodded.

Parmak got Bashir to sit by the nursing station. He put headphones on Bashir and gave him a Romulan puzzle box. “He’ll probably sit there all day,” he said to Rukhaylan.

Rukhaylan studied the warm-skinned Terran who was gently rocking back and forth. He remembered Parmak telling him that Bashir had served in Starfleet. _So you’re a veteran,_ thought Rukhaylan. _I wonder if we have ever faced each other in battle. Perhaps we have treated the wounds inflicted by each other’s battalions._

It seemed odd, perhaps even ironic, for them both to just be sitting in the same room together as if they had never been on opposite sides of a war. Rukhaylan wasn’t sure what to make of that.

>>\----------o----------<<

Doctor Parmak immediately regretted what he had said as soon as it left his mouth. His patient looked at him with wide eyes and then started to cry.

Sure, it was frustrating when patients didn’t take their medicine. It didn’t help anybody, though, to snap at them and tell them it’s their fault that they’re sick.

_Kelas, what is wrong with you?_

“I apologize. That was uncalled for.”  
_if you just took your medicine though, we wouldn’t be sitting here._

“I’m tired of being sick… and the medicine just… makes me feel worse,” the patient sobbed.

His arms trembled and twitched, which was a symptom of his neurodegenerative disease. Its onset had been triggered by the stroke he had last year. The medication that Parmak had prescribed him would slow the progression of the disease and greatly extend his life, if only he would take it.

“That’s all I have to offer. Either you take the medication or die within five years. I’m sorry.”

The man made a distressed sound and slumped forwards, holding his head in his shaking hands.  
Doctor Parmak could not rid himself of his annoyance and this disturbed him. Not even a year ago, he could have calmed his patient and perhaps figured out how to motivate him. _He needs compassion,_ Parmak thought. _I just don’t feel up to the task._

His patient hiccupped and blew a snot bubble. Parmak passed him something to wipe his nose with.

“Is there someone I can call for you?”

“My family…” his patient said in between sobs, “died… in the… fire. Nobody’s… going to… care… when I… die.”

 _Perhaps I really should retire._ thought Doctor Parmak. He looked at his patient helplessly. _You need help, but it’s going to have to be someone else’s._

Parmak commed the social worker who had an office in the clinic. He felt incompetent, but the wellbeing of his patient came before his pride. “Leetvek, are you available? I have a patient in my office who’s in crisis.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Conan Leetvek, RSW, had a tiny office near the nursing station. His job involved a combination of casework for the patients of the clinic, public health outreach, and crisis intervention. He was in the middle of writing a progress report when Doctor Parmak commed him.

“I’ll be right there, doctor,” he responded.

He planted his hands on the armrests of his chair, and slowly pushed himself up onto his feet. He leaned forwards on his desk while he reached for his cane. His fingers brushed it and it fell onto the floor. He sighed and sat back down before bending over to pick it up.

He was only in his fifties. He had lost both of his legs above the knee in the fire and was not a candidate for biosynthetic limbs due to the excessive nerve damage he had sustained to his lower extremities. He had to make do with his two mechanical protheses. He believed that it had given him a needed lesson in patience.

Leetvek navigated his way out of his office and down the hall towards Parmak’s. Doctor Parmak’s patient was bent over, sobbing. Parmak looked frustrated. Leetvek pulled up a chair and carefully lowered himself into it.

“Ah, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get myself up out of this one,” he said in a friendly manner.  
The patient looked at him. He seemed to want to say something, but he was having trouble speaking. “I’m Leetvek. I’m a social worker.”

“Osteth,” the man managed to say.  
His hands were quivering as he dabbed at his nose and cheeks.

“He didn’t take the medication I prescribed him, and I was hard on him,” Parmak said.

“It… makes me… throw up,” said Osteth. “Anti… Antinausi…ants don’t work… I’m so… so tired… of being… sick.”

“I can see you’re trembling a lot. That must be exhausting.”

“I have… Kaylek’s… Syndrome. It’s… terminal.”

“He could live into his sixties, seventies even, with treatment,” said Doctor Parmak. “He’ll be unable to care for himself this time next year if he doesn’t start his medication.”

A fresh wave of distress washed over Osteth. He hugged himself and bent over.

Leetvek looked at Osteth pensively. “I think you want to live,” he said, "but you’re tired of suffering.”

Osteth nodded.

Leetvek waited for Osteth to get his voice back before trying to get more information. “Who do you have to support you?” he asked.

“I have… no family.”

“Friends?”

Osteth shook his head. “nobody.”

“You’ve been facing a major illness all by yourself. Nobody should have to go through all of this without support.”

Osteth closed his eyes and more tears rolled down his cheeks.

“You have me now,” said Leetvek.

He offered his hand to Osteth. Osteth grasped it. His hand was damp and Leetvek could feel it tremble.

“We’ll find you support. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore, all right?”

Osteth nodded. He put his other hand over his face and sobbed some more.

Leetvek managed to get some information out of him about his work and how he was managing to cope at home. He referred Osteth to a support group and a counselor and arranged to meet with him the following week to check on him.

“I know that your medication makes you throw up, but do you think you could manage to take it at least until I see you again next week? Just try.”

Osteth nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

Leetvek did end up needing help in getting out of the chair. Parmak and Osteth helped him to his feet. Leetvak laughed from his belly, and patted Osteth’s shoulder. “We Cardassians are all forced to rely on each other, now even more than before.”

“The Jem Hadar didn’t leave us with much of a choice,” said Osteth. He managed to smile. “Thank you.”

>>\----------o----------<<

It was probably no one’s fault, but Rukhaylan blamed Dr. Tan anyways, perhaps because he was already annoyed with her to begin with.

Rukhaylan went into the staff room and was greeted by the stench of Dr. Tan’s fish stew. It made his throat feel tight and his eyes water. “Oh, hello Rukhaylan! Did you manage to read through those studies I left for you on your desk?”

She grabbed his arm with her fishy hands and pulled him down into a chair. “Sit! We have much to discuss.”

“Doctor, I’d rather not. I’m allergic to your lunch.”

“I wasn’t offering to share, now was I? As I was saying, I left you a pile of studies that could link the increased prevalence of cardiovascular disease to the chronic pulmonary stress of our population caused by Cardassia prime’s air quality.”

Tan spat fishy saliva onto Rukhaylan as she talked, still gripping his arm. Rukhaylan had to forcefully pull her hand off of him in order to get away.

“Oh, don’t be like that! I need your help!”

Doctor Parmak and Social Worker Leetvek walked into the break room. “Don’t feel bad,” Leetvek was saying. “It’s your job to deliver the truth.”

“I still could have been more delicate,” said Parmak.

He squeezed around Rukhaylan to get to the replicator. “Ettaberry tea, hot.”

The replicator, which was as ancient as everything else in their clinic, didn’t function until Rukhaylan hit it on the side. Parmak smirked. “That’s basically the gist of mandatory engineering courses, eh?”

Rukhaylan smiled back. “That or turn it off and on again.”

Dr. Parmak tried to disentangle himself from listening about Dr. Tan’s research, but she wouldn’t let him get a word in. Rukhaylan went around Leetvek to the kitchen-sized sanitizing station and washed Tan’s fish off of himself.

“You wash your face before eating?” Avezi said, as she slid around him and towards the replicator. “What a clean freak.”

“You’ll be patient zero of the next pandemic,” Rukhaylan spat back.

Doctor Borr, one of the general practitioners, got his lunch out of the food chilling unit and sat down across from Doctor Tan, who was delighted to have willing company. Rukhaylan replicated a nutri-pack and made to leave. Doctor Tan blocked his way, probably unintentionally, and shoved her smelly stew into the microwave unit. “Hey!” she exclaimed when he rudely pushed his way past her. “What’s with you today?”

_Adrenaline shot through Rukhaylan’s arteries at the sound of phaser fire and explosions. He threw himself to the ground, pulling Doctor Parmak with him.  
“Get down!” he screamed.  
He slithered backwards under the table. “Get down! Get down!” he begged the rest of the people in the room.  
He looked in horror at Avezi, who was still on her feet. He pictured a blast of phaser fire piercing her through the chest. _

Avezi grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed the broken microwave unit. The room filled with smoke. Stinky, fishy smoke.

Parmak gently pulled Rukhaylan's clenched hand from his arm. “We’re all right I think,” he said.  
His eyes were wide, and his voice sounded nervous. “Something exploded, but nobody’s trying to kill us. We’re safe. We both just need to take some deep breaths and then we’ll be all right again.”

Doctor Tan’s cackle doused Rukhaylan like a cold bucket of water. All of his adrenaline converted to rage in an instant. He crawled out from under the table.

“You all right there Rukhaylan?” said Doctor Borr, hiding a smirk.

He at least was trying not to laugh. “I’d pay for a holorecording of that,” said Tan.

Rukhaylan wanted to hurt her, so he quickly left the room, but not before shoving the table in an aggressive manner.

“That wasn’t funny,” he heard Avezi snap. “Nobody’s laughing with you.”

Her words neutralized some of the shame he felt. He went into an empty exam room and leaned against the bio-bed, trying to calm himself. He was struggling to convince his mind that they all really were safe. His imagination kept conjuring up the sound of phaser rifle fire.

Somebody knocked three times on the door and tentatively pushed it open. Rukhaylan expected it to be one of his coworkers, but it wasn’t.

It was Doctor Parmak’s human. The human, Julian, silently came in. He took off his earphones and slowly, gently reached up and placed them over Rukhaylan’s ears. Then he leaned against the bio-bed too.

The earphones were the noise canceling kind. Rukhaylan looked sideways at Bashir and nodded gratitude. Julian smiled. He was observing Rukhaylan.

Bashir held out five fingers and then pointed to his eye. Rukhaylan didn’t understand. Bashir pointed at different objects in the room, and then counted to five on his fingers.

“Oh, you want me to do that grounding exercise Doctor Parmak’s always suggesting.”  
Bashir nodded. Rukhaylan remembered that nodding meant ‘yes’ in the federation.

“All right,” he sighed. “I see a chair, I see the carpet, I see the poster about STIs, I see my shoes, I see a desktop terminal.”

Bashir held up five fingers and then rubbed his palms together. “Five things I feel? I feel the bio-bed behind me, I feel the fabric of my pants against my legs, I feel the soles of my shoes, I feel my hair touching my neck, and I feel heat radiating off of you.”

Bashir smirked. He held up five fingers and then pointed to his ear.

“I can’t hear anything thanks to these fantastic headphones of yours.”

Bashir took a small device from his pocket and offered it to Rukhaylan. Rukhaylan poked at it and some Terran music started playing in the earphones. He wasn’t sure what ‘fly me to the moon’ meant because he didn’t have a universal translator, but it was relaxing.

Bashir gestured for him to take ten deep breaths. He did. _I’m safe. We’re all safe. The war is over. I don’t have to be prepared to jump into action anymore._

>>\----------o----------<<

“What do you mean it wasn’t funny?” said Tan coughing and heading for the door. “Borr thought it was.”

Everybody left the staff room to get away from the smoke.

“Well, I was surprised,” said Borr. “Maybe it wasn’t really funny in hindsight. He looked furious when we laughed.”

Parmak was limping. He had hurt his knee when Rukhaylan pulled him down onto the ground. Leetvek was quiet. He excused himself and went to his office. Avezi looked like she was contemplating murdering Tan.

“You shouldn’t have laughed. You should apologize,” said Avezi.

“He isn’t right in the head,” said Tan. “It’s been almost eleven years since the fire. _Nobody_ else dropped to the floor, screaming and _we_ all lived through it.”

“He wasn’t the only one who was shaken by the microwave unit malfunctioning,” said Parmak. “He was just the most obvious about it. Many of the people in this building, both staff and patients, would have panicked as well. Our entire planet has been traumatized.”

“I watched my entire family be murdered execution style while I hid in a cupboard,” said Tan. “You still don’t see me scrambling under a table at loud noises.”

“I didn’t know that about your family,” said Parmak.

Tan shrugged. “We’ve all got to move on. Like I said, you don’t see me cowering and crying about it.”

“You don’t have to,” said Parmak. “There’s no right or wrong way to react to trauma. Everybody’s a bit different. Two people could experience exactly the same thing and one could be ready to move on, and one could be diving under tables. There’s no rules. It’s all right to still get triggered after eleven years.”

He looked pointedly at Tan. “It’s also all right to be all right.”

Tan frowned and said that she had patients to see.

>>\----------o----------<<

Bashir pointed to the desktop terminal. Rukhaylan drew a horizontal rectangle with his finger. Bashir copied him and then pointed to a chair. Rukhaylan showed him the CUSL sign for chair: Two fingers pointing down and then a flat hand with the palm down. “You only need one hand for most words,” said Rukhaylan, “so that you can carry a disruptor in the other hand.”

Bashir bounced on the balls of his feet and pointed to Rukhaylan. Rukhaylan spelled a shortened version of his name, R-kh-l-n, and then showed Bashir the signs for Cardassian and nurse. Bashir pointed to himself. _J-u-l-i-a-n,_ Rukhaylan signed. “Human,” he said. He mimed a handshake and made a falsely cheery face. “Doctor.” He mimed scanning someone with a tricorder and then tapped his shoulder twice, indicating high rank.

Bashir grinned and waved his hands excitedly. “I can’t believe nobody’s tried teaching you sign language before.”

Rukhaylan thought of some more useful signs. “Patient,” he said, making the signs for person and bio-bed. “Nausea.” He mimed throwing up. “Pain.” He made a claw with his hand and waived it over different body parts, grimacing.

Bashir pointed to the poster on STIs. Rukhaylan smiled. He made the symbol for sex and then made the symbol for pain over his lower abdomen.

Bashir pointed to Rukhaylan and then made the pain symbol over his head.

 _Myself no headache._ signed Rukhaylan. “I don’t have a headache.”

Bashir waived his hand, _no._ He held his head in his hands and made a distressed face. Then he mimed being startled.

Rukhaylan signed: _prolong trauma effect._ “Post-traumatic stress.”

 _You me same,_ signed Bashir.

 _I guess we are,_ thought Rukhaylan, _even though we’re so different._

* * *

Doctor Kelas Parmak, Autistic Julian Bashir, Post Cannon Cardassia


	5. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Leetvek gets Parmak drunk, and Avezi manages to score a date- with a little help.

__

_> >\----------o----------<<_

_No cry E-l-i-m._ Bashir signed, improvising the sign for cry.

They were standing in the skimmer hanger of the Castellan’s residence. Garak looked up at the ceiling and then squeezed his eyes shut, beginning to sob. Bashir wrapped his arms around Garak, and Garak hugged back tightly. Bashir found the tightness comforting. He had wanted Garak to hug him on multiple occasions, but he hadn’t had the ability to communicate what he wished for. He felt safe.

Garak couldn’t stop sobbing. Bashir started crying too. Parmak rubbed Garak’s back and touched Bashir’s shoulder. Garak leaned into him. He put one of his arms around Parmak and hugged both at the same time.

Bashir fell asleep on the sofa before his usual bedtime that night. “I guess going to the clinic tired him out,” said Parmak.

He put a blanket over the sleeping human. Garak gently tucked a pillow under Bashir’s head. Bashir stirred and then sunk back into sleep.

>>\----------o----------<<

Bashir was restless the next day. He paced through the rooms with an energy Parmak had never seen in him before. He kept waiving his hands and making sounds of frustration. “What’s wrong Julian?” asked Parmak. “Can you show me?”

Bashir dug his nails into his arms and huffed. He made a face like he was trying to make himself speak. He started signing letters, but they didn’t spell words that Parmak recognized.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” said Parmak.

Bashir waived his hands, expressing frustration. Tears started to slide down his face.

“Can you write what’s wrong?” Parmak asked, handing Bashir his PADD. “It will translate what you’re trying to spell.”

Bashir selected the federation script and tapped out a word. Parmak took the pad and pushed translate. The stick and circle letters turned into a string of recognizable characters. _Clinic,_ Bashir had typed.

“You’re not feeling well?”

Parmak tried to scan Bashir. Bashir snatched the medical tricorder from his hands and wouldn’t give it back. He scanned Parmak and his support worker while they looked at him in confusion.  
“I guess he wants to be the doctor instead of the patient,” said the support worker, laughing awkwardly.

“He is a doctor,” said Parmak, frowning.  
He tried to give the PADD back to Bashir in exchange for his tricorder. “Give us something more Julian. We both want to understand.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Bashir knew exactly what he needed, but his mind wouldn’t let him construct any sentences to type out or speak. Take, he improvised, making a grabbing gesture. Me.

“You need something,” guessed the support worker. “Can you type it?”

 _R-kh-l-n,_ signed Bashir.

“I know all of those letters,” said the support worker, “But I don’t know what that means.”

“I’m sorry, I need to get going or I’ll be late for work. May I have my tricorder back?”

Bashir reluctantly handed Parmak back the tricorder. He went and curled up into a ball on the sofa, resting his head on the armrest. He gritted his teeth and rocked himself. He felt like his brain was like a starship after having survived a battle. Half of the decks he couldn’t access, and communications were down. He had to crawl through the metaphorical Jeffry’s tubes instead of using the doors in order to complete any task.

He let himself float away for a bit while his support worker sat down at the other end of the sofa and switched on the news cast.

>>\----------o----------<<

Rukhaylan was covering triage for the walk-in clinic while his colleague took her lunchbreak.

“Sit down please, you’re having a heart attack,” he said, scanning his patient.

“No, I’m not. I can’t be. I’m way too young for that,” said his patient, a lean, forty-year-old woman. “I just had too much sun.” She was sweating and had come in complaining of having a migraine.

“See for yourself,” said Rukhaylan, showing her the tricorder. “Your blood pressure is dangerously high, and your resting pulse is 168 bpm. You need to be transported to the hospital immediately.”

Rukhaylan pulled the privacy curtain aside so that he could see his patient while he went to his desk and commed the emergency department of Union Hospital. His patient got out of her chair. “I want to see a doctor,” she demanded.

“You will, sit down- yes, East Torr Medical Centre. I have a patient with Tachycardia. I’m preparing her for transport.”

Rukhaylan grabbed a transporter beacon. His patient stumbled towards him. “Sit. Put this on,” Rukhaylan said firmly.  
He pulled the chair up behind her. She collapsed into it. “I don’t have time to go to the hospital, I have to prepare for my presentation tomorrow,” her sharp tone gave way to a hint of desperation. “I can’t be having a heart-attack. Just let me wait to see a doctor.”

“Parmak,” Rukhaylan said to the doctor walking past them. “Please tell my patient that she’s having a heart-attack so that she’ll let me send her to the Union.”

Parmak turned on his heal. “If Nurse Rukhaylan says you’re having a heart attack, you’re having a heart attack, believe me, he knows what he’s talking about.”

The patient reluctantly let Rukhaylan strap the transporter beacon onto her wrist. He pushed a button on it, and she vanished, along with the chair she was sitting on.

Rukhaylan breathed out slowly and massaged his ocular ridge with his thumb.

“Somewhere at the Union, there’s an entire room that’s just full of chairs, floor to ceiling,” said Parmak.

“I agree,” said Rukhaylan. “It’s not like they ever give them back.”

Rukhaylan wondered when exactly he and Doctor Parmak had become friends. He quite liked having a friend.

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak continued on to Leetvek’s office.  
“I wanted to know if you had any progress with a patient I referred to you, Shazina Tureb.”  
Leetvek pulled up his charts and searched for her name. “Hmm, remind me.”

“Twenty-seven-year-old off-worlder with cortical blindness. Um, she talks really fast. Yes? She’s living alone. She’s isolated and bored to tears. The discharge coordinator from the Union closed her casefile too quickly.”

Leetvek nodded. “I met with her last week. She’s been holed up in her residence living from a replicator, which is certainly not ideal.” He opened the one case note in Tureb’s chart. “There’s a support worker visiting her every three days now, and I referred her to the occupational therapist on the second level. I’m scheduled to see her again in five days and we’ll figure out how to get her back into the community once more.”

Parmak nodded his approval. “We, as a society, seem to still take it for granted that people have their families to fall back on.”

“I suppose it is ingrained in our culture,” said Leetvek, “as both a positive and a negative. Despite all of the loss we have suffered, we remain uniquely, stubbornly Cardassian.”

Parmak laughed. “Why build another house when you can just build yet another extension?”

“Speaking of family,” said Leetvek. “How is your household? Is the Terran you brought with you to work living with you?”

“Are you asking in your professional role, or as the leaky gossip-pot you are off duty?”

Leetvek pretended to be offended. “As a friend! Why? Is there something you don’t want all over the news casts? You’re certainly a public figure these days.”

“Julian is an old friend of Elim’s- you’re making that face again.”

“You just called the Castellan Ee-lim, what do you want from me?”

Parmak made an exasperated gesture. “We should get on with the day.”

“Wait, just wait. Let’s grab dinner after the clinic closes. I’ll be whichever version of me you need.”

“I will consider your proposal,” said Parmak, who had already made up his mind to go home and eat dinner in front of the news cast.

>>\----------o----------<<

Rukhaylan heard Avezi shriek and the sound of a box of data rods smashing. The receptionist had tried her stunt again instead of just asking for help.

He ran to her station and found her on the floor, her office chair spinning in a tell-tale manner. “Avezi!” He got down on his knees next to her. “No, don’t try to get up, just wait.”

He quickly scanned her with his medical tricorder to make sure she hadn’t hurt her spine, and then helped her sit up. “Did you hit your head?”

“No,” said Avezi through gritted teeth.

She held her wrist gingerly. It was starting to bruise. Rukhaylan helped her slowly get to her feet. She sat down on her chair and awkwardly smiled at the people in the waiting room who were staring at her.

“You have an audience,” observed Rukhaylan. “I’m tempted to make a public service announcement about standing on office chairs, but I think they got the message already.”

“Really nurse, whatever makes you think I was standing on an office chair?”

Rukhaylan looked at her incredulously for three seconds and then scanned her arm. “You’ve broken your wrist.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Avezi and Rukhaylan sat at the nursing station. Rukhaylan ran an ostioregenerator over Avezi’s hairline fracture. With his other hand, he gently supported her wrist. They both were completely oblivious to Leetvek and Parmak watching them.

The gastroenterologist came and stood next to Parmak. She sipped her gelat.

“Do you think he’ll ask her out first, or will she ask him?” she said.

“They’ve been bickering and showing off to each other for two years already. I think they might need some help,” said Leetvek.

>>\----------o----------<<

Rukhaylan carefully splinted Avezi’s hand. His fingers brushed against her skin. Her heartrate increased. She took Rukhaylan’s hand and pressed it flat against her arm. He looked up at her with his dark, piercing eyes. Avezi tilted her head side-to-side, showing him her neck ridges. Rukhaylan flicked his tongue over his lips.

Suddenly Rukhaylan sat up straight and looked over his shoulder. There were six staff members standing about, watching the two of them. Doctor Tan took a slurp of her nasty fish juice.  
Rukhaylan and Avezi looked sideways at each other in embarrassment.

“Does anyone actually work around here?” whispered Rukhaylan.

“This is why we’re always running late,” Avezi whispered back.

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak’s last patient for the day didn’t present any particular challenge. He adjusted her dosage and updated her chart. “Bye doctor, thanks again,” she said and left.

Parmak checked his messages. There was one from Garak saying that he wouldn’t be home until midnight. There was also an update from Bashir’s support worker. Bashir had refused to eat anything and was now hiding in bed.

Parmak turned off his personal communicator and shoved it deep in his bag. He locked up his office and knocked on Leetvek’s door. Leetvek was shutting down his desktop terminal. “I’ll take you up on your offer after all.”

Leetvek smiled. “Excellent.” He eased himself up out of his chair and steadied himself against the wall for balance. Parmak passed him his briefcase.

Parmak watched Rukhaylan pack up his small file cart that he took home with him every night. “Do you have any special plans this evening nurse?” He said, pointedly glancing in the direction of the receptionist desk where Avezi was backing up the server onto a data rod.

“No,” said Rukhaylan, not looking up from his file cart.

“Does Avezi?”

“I don’t know, you could ask her,” he said, doing up the fastenings on the navy-blue box, and pulling up the telescoping handle.

Parmak and Leetvek exchanged a communicative glance. “We’re going out to get something to eat. Join us,” said Parmak.

Rukhaylan looked at the two of them in surprise. “Um, all right.”

He followed behind the two men awkwardly, pulling his file cart.

Avezi was putting on her out-door shoes and dust mask. “Avezi!” said Leetvek. “Join us! We’re going out for dinner.”

“I took public transit,” said Avezi, looking sideways at Leetvek, trying to figure out what the game was. “I’m afraid I’m unable to meet up with you in any efficient manner.”

“Nonsense, we’re just heading to main street. Rukhaylan will drive you.”

Rukhaylan and Avezi stared at each other, both realizing what was happening simultaneously.

“Yes,” said Avezi, her eyes wide. “All right, I’ll come with you.”

Rukhaylan nodded, his eyes equally wide. He offered her his arm and she took it.

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak and Leetvek were surprised that Rukhaylan and Avezi actually showed up to the restaurant they had agreed upon. “Young Cardassians these days need to learn to live a little,” said Leetvek.

Parmak smirked and set down a plate of Feyt in front of Leetvek. “What do young Cardassians these days do for fun? Do tell,” said Parmak, addressing Rukhaylan and Avezi.  
They glanced at each other in painful awkwardness. “We um…” said Rukhaylan who spent each night eating dinner-for-one and catching up on paperwork in front of the news cast, “We talk I guess?”

“We go dancing,” said Avezi. “And we play hover ball and spring ball.”

Avezi looked hopefully at Rukhaylan. Rukhaylan didn’t know how to do any of those things. His hesitation betrayed him.

“We go to the hollo suites,” he suggested.

Avezi coughed while drinking her tea. “But not until we’ve met each other’s parents,” she said, directing the statement to Parmak.

“I suppose not,” said Rukhaylan, whose parents were both dead. He decided to change the subject. “It was nice to finally meet your human, Parmak. Julian, I mean. It was nice to meet Julian.”

Parmak smiled at Rukhaylan correcting himself. “He’s been trying to sign non-stop since yesterday. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him try to communicate anything other than yes and no. He keeps getting frustrated when we don’t understand. If we try to get him to write what he’s saying, he only gives one-word responses. This morning he typed out ‘clinic’ and then grabbed my tricorder when I tried to scan him.”

Rukhaylan frowned. “Did he do anything else?”

“He kept going like…” Parmak imitated Bashir’s hands, spelling out R-kh-l-n over and over. “I know a little bit of CUSL, but that doesn’t spell anything. Is it an acronym you taught him?”

Rukhaylan smiled. “That’s how I abbreviate my name. He wanted you to take him to the clinic so that he could get me to teach him more sign language probably.”

“Would you? Teach him I mean. I’ll teach you how to dance in exchange.”

“You- teach- wait, what?” Rukhaylan spluttered.

“Well I don’t know how to play hover ball,” said Parmak, “but I used to go out dancing every night when I was your age. If you teach Julian some more CUSL, I can teach you how to sweep Avezi off her feet.”

He smiled at Avezi who hid her expression by taking a sip of tea.

“I would be happy to teach Julian some more sign language,” said Rukhaylan in an uncharacteristically shy manner.

Avezi sat her cup down, a thought occurring to her. “I thought that there were curfews set in old Cardassia.”

“Oh, there were curfews,” said Parmak, “but that just added to the excitement of it all. If you were willing to occasionally spend a night in a holding cell, Cardassia city had a whole nightlife to explore - that is, for those who knew where to look.”

Parmak remembered darting through the streets between supposedly closed eating establishments. He remembered the secret and unofficial routes through the city between basements, alleyways and rooftops. He remembered climbing fences and crawling through windows, back when he had the knees for that sort of activity. He remembered darting through traffic on his hover-bike, trying to shake yet another suspicious skimmer with tinted windows.

He was surprised to feel nostalgic, not for the tyranny, but for how Cardassians rebelled against it.

“I wish I could show you pictures,” he said. “They were very different times, but it wasn’t all bad all the time.”  
_Until you got caught being involved with outlawed political groups,_ Parmak added in his head.  
“I suppose those nights will die as my generation dies. Thanks to the fire, all we have left are memories.”

“I had no idea you had a wild side,” said Leetvek. “You always seem so serious and self-sacrificing.”

“Serious, I understand, but self-sacrificing?”

Leetvek explained what he meant later that evening after his third glass of kanar. He and Parmak had retired to his study after Avezi had convinced Rukhaylan to go hover-skating with her.

“He’s his ex. You’re living with your partner’s ex. How do you get more self-sacrificing than that?”

“It’s not that bad. I like Julian.”

Leetvek poured Parmak and himself another drink. “Why is it that you’re the one who is late for work because Julian’s support worker is sick? Why is that your responsibility?”

Parmak took a sip of kanar. _Why is it my responsibility?_ They had never really discussed it.

“Listen, I’d never say this so bluntly to a client,” said Leetvek, swaying a bit in his seat, his words slurring in his mouth, “but as your new self-imposed friend, I feel the need to point out you’re being used.”

“Used?” Parmak giggled, emptying his glass.

“What would you say to me?” said Leetvek, “What would you say if I told you my partner had taken in her injured ex-boyfriend and now somehow _I_ was in charge of coordinating all of his care while she’s ignoring the very fact that he’s even in our house?”

“It was easier for me to be the one take charge of that. He was devastated and sinking back into depression. I’m fine with it. We’re a team.”

Leetvek rolled his eyes. “Lucky man. What about you though? What about Parmak?”

Parmak emptied the last of the kanar into their glasses. “What about him?”

“No offence, but I can smell the stress on you whenever you come in for work.”

Leetvek leaned towards Parmak and drunkenly grabbed Parmak’s arm to steady himself. “What about your needs?” He stage-whispered.

“You are way too drunk to be therapizing me,” said Parmak, pushing Leetvek back into a normal sitting position.

“Oh, come on. Just tell me – just in this moment- what do you feel like doing? Then we do it. Pretend we have no responsibilities!” Leetvek waived his hands dramatically.

Parmak snorted. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Oh, so you _have_ a terrible idea already? Come on, what would wild, youthful Parmak do?”

“Get arrested.”

“Let’s go do that then!”

They both started laughing. Parmak patted Leetvek on the shoulder. “Imagine,” said Leetvek. “My kids would be so embarrassed.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak had got home later than Garak that night. Now he watched Garak’s chest slowly rise and fall in sleep. His partner’s breathing was soft, and definitely not what was keeping Parmak awake.

 _Boring indeed,_ he thought, remembering Garak’s words. _You have no idea who I was or what I did. You have no idea what I became after the labor camp._

As much as he loved him, he couldn’t tell him. He would never let his interrogator know his whole truth.

Parmak got up and walked through the residence, pausing at the windows to look out at Cardassia’s three moons that lit the city through the haze of dust in the atmosphere. His memories of the past were strong in his mind. He could almost touch them, taste them. He wandered from room to room, reliving what he could not share. He had been conditioned long ago that truth meant death. _But my death will be the end of my truth._

“This is your truth,” he heard his friend, Reshmi, say, as she gestured out at the city. She appeared beside him, looking out the window, although she wasn’t truly there. “This is the new Cardassia. This is a Cardassia sustained on truth, the Cardassia we dreamed of.”

Parmak nodded to his ghostly friend. She laughed, “lighten up.”

Parmak heard the floor creak to his right, and his hunter’s eye picked up a life sign a few meters away. “Go back to bed Elim, you have an early day tomorrow,” he said.

He turned to see not Garak but Bashir standing in the doorway. “Julian?”

Bashir walked towards him.

“Are you all right? Did I wake you?”

Bashir didn’t answer. He came to stand next to Parmak and scanned him with his eyes. He slowly reached up and touched Parmak’s temple and ocular ridge, measuring the older man’s pulse. Parmak smiled. “I’m fine doctor, I’m just up late thinking about an old friend.”

Bashir took Parmak’s hand and lead him over to a sofa. He motioned for him to sit, and then disappeared into the kitchen without turning on any lights. He came back and put a mug into Parmak’s hands. Parmak did not recognize the odour of the tea. He took a sip. It tasted herbal.

Bashir sat down next to him cross-legged on the sofa. He put his hands in his lap and gently rocked.

“Her name was Reshmi,” said Parmak.  
He took a sip, wondering if he was being completely ethical keeping Bashir awake at this hour. Just saying her name out loud felt so relieving though. “She was one of the people I named when I was interrogated.”

Bashir stopped rocking, and sat still, waiting.

Parmak began.

* * *

Kelas Parmak, Autistic Julian Bashir, Post Cannon Cardassia


	6. I survived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parmak and Bashir both grieve together and grow closer.

**_Previous Chapter:_ **

* * *

_“Are you all right? Did I wake you?”_

_Bashir didn’t answer. He came to stand next to Parmak and scanned him with his eyes. He slowly reached up and touched Parmak’s temple and ocular ridge, measuring the older man’s pulse. Parmak smiled. “I’m fine doctor, I’m just up late thinking about an old friend.”_

_Bashir took Parmak’s hand and lead him over to a sofa. He motioned for him to sit, and then disappeared into the kitchen without turning on any lights. He came back and put a mug into Parmak’s hands. Parmak did not recognize the odour of the tea. He took a sip. It tasted herbal._

_Bashir sat down next to him cross-legged on the sofa. He put his hands in his lap and gently rocked._

_“Her name was Reshmi,” said Parmak._  
_He took a sip, wondering if he was being completely ethical keeping Bashir awake at this hour. Just saying her name out loud felt so relieving though. “She was one of the people I named when I was interrogated.”_

_Bashir stopped rocking, and sat still, waiting._

_Parmak began._

* * *

“Why am I here?”

Parmak tried not to touch the sticky table he was handcuffed to. He shifted in his hard, wobbly chair. The room smelled like gasoline. It was giving him a headache.

His interrogator silently stared at him.

Parmak adverted his gaze to the floor. It was concrete and covered in dark brown stains. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself.

The interrogator just sat there, watching him. He never spaced out or looked away. Parmak felt as if the man were invading his personal space even though they were separated by a table.

His skin crawled. His heart started to race despite his efforts to breath slowly. It felt like betrayal.

 _He knows,_ Parmak thought. _He’s just waiting for me to confess. They always want confessions to make the trial a testament to the effectiveness of the jurisprudence system._

There was no window nor chronometer in the room. There was nothing to tell the passage of time, other than his growing thirst and need to pass waste. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. “May I have a glass of water?” he asked, his voice shaky and out of place in the quiet room.

His interrogator did not acknowledge the request. Parmak felt embarrassed for even asking.

His mind kept traveling to what was likely to happen next. The execution machine kept materializing in his mind, its twisting appendages writhing through his thoughts. This man was deciding his fate and he wouldn’t even speak.

Parmak kept swallowing, which turned to gasping, which turned to hyperventilating. “Say something!” he screamed. “Why are you not speaking?”

No reaction.

“I was barely involved,” he pleaded.

The interrogator tilted his head and raised his eye ridges. It was strangely relieving to get a reaction.

“It was just a few pamphlets. She gave them to me, and I hid them around the city. I regret it now. Deeply, truly, I regret it.”

The interrogator silently took out a PADD from a bag resting against his chair. He made the motion of flicking through various documents.

Parmak sobbed, unable to control his breathing. He rested his head in his arms, not caring about the stickiness of the table anymore.

Finally, the interrogator spoke. “It would be in your best interest to sign this confession stating that you engaged in insurgent activities under the influence of Reshmi Anor, and that you are in deep regret of the threat you have posed to Cardassia through distributing seditious documents.”

A phaser blast of adrenaline shot through Parmak, causing him to black out for a second.

They had her name. Reshmi. She was as good as dead.

Parmak’s whole body shook. His face contorted into a silent scream. All of his friends were dead, and they didn’t even know it.

“Come now, calm yourself,” said the interrogator. “As you said, you were barely involved. You can still set things right.”

The interrogator, Garak, got Doctor Parmak a cup of water.

>>\----------o----------<<

“I found out many years later, after the fire, that Garak didn’t know that I was involved in any illegal activities. If I had not said anything about the pamphlets, I would have been eventually sent home. We put it together that the only reason I was interrogated in the first place was because I was Enabren Tain’s doctor, and the man was deeply paranoid.”

Parmak closed his eyes for a moment. “In essence, because of my confession, Reshmi was executed along with two other members of our resistance group. I survived because I testified against them. He just looked at the surveillance report on me and guessed, and I confirmed it all with my reactions.”

Parmak’s throat felt thick. He felt Bashir move closer on the sofa. The other doctor pressed his forehead against Parmak’s shoulder in sort of a comforting head-butt.

Parmak turned his head to see the human’s odd display of affection and smiled. He wiped his eyes.

“I had to forgive myself eventually. I forgive myself for being young and vulnerable to suggestion and manipulation. I couldn’t have continued living otherwise. It doesn’t lighten the grief that sits on my heart though.”

The grief turned from a dull ache to a sharp stab. Parmak crumpled in on himself, quietly weeping. “She was a sister to me, Julian. She was family. She had so much more to give.”

Parmak was surprised to feel Bashir’s arms around him. Bashir pulled him close so that Parmak rested against his chest. The unexpected compassion made Parmak cry even harder.

>>\----------o----------<<

Bashir, for the first time since he had arrived on Cardassia, thought about Sarina without a flashback. Parmak’s grief echoed in him, stirring up his own emotions. There had been a connection between him and Sarina that could never be replicated. They understood each other without having to explain. It was deeper than romantic love or attraction. They both were augments in a galaxy that disapproved of their existence. They could be themselves around each other in a way they couldn’t with anyone else. _She was a sister to me, Julian. She was family. She had so much more to give._

How long had he gone without properly grieving Sarina’s death?

Parmak must have felt Bashir sob because he sat up and wrapped his own arms around him. They both stood so that they could hold each other closer. They rested their heads on each other’s shoulders, clinging to each-other and sobbing.

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak handed Bashir a tissue. They both cleaned themselves up a bit and then held each-other again. Bashir rubbed Parmak’s back and, now that he was calmer, fully noticed how petite and bony the other doctor was. He wasn’t short exactly, just small. His clothes usually hid this fact. Bashir felt Parmak’s ribcage expand and contract in shaky breaths. Suddenly he felt a surge of affection like the sun bursting through the clouds. He smiled and squeezed Parmak a little tighter. Parmak returned the squeeze.

* * *

Kelas Parmak, Autistic Julian Bashir, Hurt/Comfort, Post Cannon Cardassia


	7. Small friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian finally gets that lesson in Cardassian sign language he was hoping for! Also, Rukhaylan introduces Avezi to his family.

“To have,” said Rukhaylan, making the sign for the verb.  
 _I have b-e-a-r,_ signed Bashir and held up Kukulaka.

 _? name b-e-a-r?_ signed Rukhaylan. “That’s called a bear? Did I say it right?” _? I pronounce correct?_

“It’s a toy bear,” said the literal _Castellan_ of the _entire Cardassian Union_ whom Rukhaylan definitely did not vote for and now was sitting across from.

Rukhaylan showed them the sign for toy. “Is it an animal from your home planet?”  
? that toy animal from home planet?

Bashir nodded and then made the Cardassian symbol for yes. He gestured to Kukulaka. _Friend. Small J-u-l-i-a-n friend._

 _Young J-u-l-i-a-n. Childhood friend,_ Rukhaylan substituted.

 _Young J-u-l-i-a-n patient,_ signed Bashir. He showed Rukhaylan Kukulaka’s stitches.

“Guls, that is exceptionally cute,” said Rukhaylan, laughing. _Cute._

Julian hugged Kukulaka.

“He introduced me to his small friend on deep space nine,” said Garak, and then tried to sign. _He… small friend me… n-o-r…_

 _On deep space nine nor, to me he introduce small friend._ Castellan Garak copied Rukhaylan.

Julian was giggling and hiding his face.

“What’s so funny, Julian?” asked Parmak. _? What ?_

“’Funny’ is this,” said Rukhaylan. He grinned, tilted his head side to side and wiggled his fingers in front of his mouth.

 _G-a-r-a-k_ signed Julian. _To him I introduce small friend. Funny!_

Castellan Garak and Doctor Parmak exchanged glances. “Do you get it?” asked the Castellan.

 _Funny on home planet,_ signed Julian. _Introduce small friend._

 _On earth, double entendre,_ Rukhaylan signed.

Julian confirmed Rukhaylan’s suspicion. _Small friend._ He pointed to his crotch.

Garak groaned. “Your sense of humour, my dear, causes me physical pain! Aaagh! How do I even sign that?!”

“You know the symbol for pain,” encouraged Rukhaylan.

Garak sighed and gestured angrily: _To me you pain! You pain! Not funny!_

Julian fell back in his seat laughing at Garak. _Small friend! You want introduction? Yes?_

“ _Now_ he offers,” Garak complained to Parmak, who was well aware of how long his partner had pined for the human doctor. Parmak laughed.

>>\----------o----------<<

Rukhaylan and Avezi were both lying on Avezi’s sofa, tired out from a night of dancing.

“You said that you wanted to meet my family.”

Avezi lifted her head from its resting place on Rukhaylan’s chest. She touched his neck ridge gently. “You said that they all died in the fire.”

“They did.”

Rukhaylan took Avezi’s hand. “I want to take you to meet them.”

Avezi caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. “I’d like that.”

>>\----------o----------<<

The field of mass graves stretched on to the horizon in every direction. Homemade-looking memorials covered the ground. Some were painted rocks, some were names etched in chunks of rubble. There were small mementos scattered across the ground, breaking down in the wind and sun. A bracelet, a set of glasses, a plastic soldier, a favourite cup. One had to be careful not to trip.

Rukhaylan consulted his tricorder. “She’s somewhere around here. This is where everyone in her apartment building was buried. I was able to identify her body from pictures and DNA, so I know exactly where she is.”

“In the end, we have always been good record keepers,” said Avezi. She took a sip from her water bottle.

They wandered around, squinting down at the markers.

“I found her!” said Rukhaylan.

Avezi picked her way over to where he was and squatted next to him.

“My sister, Thal Rukhaylan. My twin.”

“Your twin? I didn’t know you were a twin. Tell me about her.”

Rukhaylan smiled sadly. “She always left her dirty laundry on my side of the room.”

Avezi noticed Rukhaylan was translating everything he was saying into sign language.

“She’s why you know how to sign.” It was a statement not needing confirmation.

 _My beloved sister. To you I introduce J-u-a-n A-v-e-z-i._ signed Rukhaylan to his sister’s grave marker. _Her I wish-to propose enjoinment. What you think?_

“What are you saying to her?”

“I’m telling her that you’re a clumsy fool,” said Rukhaylan, signing while speaking.

“That’s not what you said! You didn’t make those gestures!”

“I told her that I’m always having to fix you up after you fall over, and how it’s such a bother.”

“He’s lying, he secretly enjoys it,” said Avezi to the grave marker. Rukhaylan translated her.

“Maybe _you’re_ the one who enjoys my… what did you call them? My ‘sturdy, gentle hands’ bandaging you up.”

Rukhaylan tickled Avezi who laughed and tickled him back.

“Maybe I do,” said Avezi. “Is it so wrong?”

* * *

Kelas Parmak, Autistic Julian Bashir, Sign Language, Post Cannon Cardassia


	8. Lit at Both Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All right, it's been fun. Time for the shit to hit the fan now.

Excerpt from Chapter 1:

* * *

_Parmak had the inkling that the subject of his projected retirement may have been brought up that morning. Every mistake he made, mixing up forms, or misplacing his medical tricorder, mistakes that everyone made now and again, were increasingly being pointed out with a chuckle and a remark about his advanced age. Parmak found himself treading very carefully around his colleagues, afraid to slip up._

* * *

Leetvek leaned back in his chair, staring off into space, trying to come up with the right words for the grant application he was writing. It was to get funding for a set of workshops on living well with chronic respiratory illness that he and Rukhaylan were trying to organize. The civic assembly had tightened their already meager budget and had not allotted much of it to the office of public health. At least half of the patients that came to the clinic had a respiratory illness of some sort; Leetvek himself and many of the staff as well were likewise affected by the post-fire air quality of Cardassia Prime. It was a timely topic for the workshops, but it was easier to squeeze water from a rock than squeeze funding from the office of public health these days.

Some part of Leetvek’s brain noticed the sound of an argument taking place by the nurses’ station, but he blocked it out and tried to stay focused. He had a deadline to reach.

The voices got louder. Someone was crying. Dr Tan’s voice pierced Leetvek’s concentration. “That’s not true! You’re not being fair!”

A lower, steadier voice continued the confrontation, joined by a second. Leetvek sighed, grabbed his cane and pushed his office door open to see what was going on.

He had not expected it to be Dr. Parmak who was facing off with Dr. Tan. The older neurologist stared down the young cardiologist with venom. “This is a clinic first and foremost, not a research laboratory. If you can’t put your patients before your research, then this is not the place for you.”

Dr. Tan wiped her eyes with her hands. “I do put my patients first! My research is for my patients!”

“I think that your ego benefits more than your patients do. You completely forget that you even _have_ patients when Rukhaylan isn’t around to remind you.”

Rukhaylan was standing behind his desk, looking between the two of them, his mouth half open. Avezi was standing in the hallway behind Dr. Tan and frowning at her.

“That was one time!”

Avezi jumped in. “No, actually it happens frequently. I have to reschedule at least a quarter of your patients because by the time you’re ready for them, they have to leave.”

Dr. Tan didn’t have anything to say. She sniffled and looked at her feet.

“You’re in a position of caring for some seriously ill people,” said Parmak. “Not only is it not fair to them that they should have to reschedule, but it’s potentially life threatening for their care to be postponed.”

Dr. Tan cried silently. Then, she turned, went around Avezi and left. “Well, I guess I’d better start rescheduling all of the appointments she had today,” grumbled Avezi, heading back to her desk. Dr. Parmak went to the front as well and came back with his next patient. They went into his office as if nothing had happened. Leetvek looked back at his grant proposal, sighed, got up, and went to try to catch up with Dr. Tan.

>>\----------o----------<<

Dr. Parmak had a hard time focusing on what his patient, Telana Cass, was saying because his mind was still turning over the confrontation he just had with Dr. Tan.

“No, I just said that it isn’t working. I still have no sensation in my hands, and yesterday I accidentally burned myself,” Telana said, frowning.

“Ah, I apologize. I’m afraid I’m having trouble concentrating today. May I see your hand?”

Telana showed Parmak her hand. The side of it was blistered.

“Ow, I bet that hurt,” said Parmak, pulling out a dermal regenerator.

Telana gave him a funny look.

Parmak ended up referring Telana to a surgeon at Union Hospital. When she left his office, he put his head in his hands and groaned.

>>\----------o----------<<

“Doctor? Do you have a moment?”

Leetvek stood in the doorway to Parmak’s office. Parmak kept his eyes on his desktop terminal. “I’m charting right now.”

“I can see that.”

Parmak ignored Leetvek and tapped away at his terminal. After a long pause, Leetvek cleared his throat. “When would be a good time for you?”

Parmak pretended that he was too engrossed in what he was doing to hear him and hoped that the nosy social worker would just go away.

Leetvek gave up on trying to get an answer. “I’ll come and find you at the end of the day,” he said and left.

>>\----------o----------<<

Dr. Parmak had a similarly difficult time concentrating on his other patients; In fact, he got worse. One of them snapped and said that maybe _Parmak_ was the one who needed to be seeing a neurologist.

Bashir’s support worker had messaged him saying that he suddenly couldn’t find Julian anywhere. Garak was in the middle of a council meeting and couldn’t help. Parmak debated whether he should just go home, but the support worker messaged him later saying that he had found Julian again. Julian had left the house suddenly without telling anyone and had taken a transport to a library in Tarlak. One of the librarians, who happened to know Julian’s situation as Julian was a frequent visitor, called the Castellan’s residence to make sure they knew where he was.

Parmak’s last patient of the day became distressed when it became clear that his doctor wasn’t listening to him. Parmak felt guilty for not getting Leetvek to help. His patient left without anything being resolved.

When he was done charting, he packed his bag quickly and hoped to slip out without having to run into Dr. Tan, who had returned and was now giving him the silent treatment, or Leetvek, who probably wanted to confront him about how he had spoken to her. Unfortunately, he had to pass by Leetvek’s office to exit, and Dr. Tan was standing just outside of it. Parmak went back into his office and waited for his opportunity. He scrolled through his personal communicator. There was a message from Garak.

_I’m afraid I don’t know when I’ll be able to come home tonight. The directorate have started a filibuster and we are now way over schedule. I may very well be here all night. I’m sorry my love. I was looking forward to spending time with you._

Parmak closed the message without replying. There was a knock at his door. Leetvek had found him.

>>\----------o----------<<

Leetvek sat down heavily in the armless chair in Parmak’s office. He could feel blisters forming at the place where his prosthetic legs connected from having to chase after Dr. Tan in the skimmer-park. He had sat with the young doctor in her skimmer and had helped her calm down. “It’s been a long day,” he said to Parmak’s turned back.

Parmak sat at his terminal, still pretending to be working. His terminal was off.

“It has,” he agreed, quietly.

Leetvek stretched and cracked his neck. He waited. Sometimes the best way to get people to speak was to give them silence to fill.

“I don’t like it when you do that,” Parmak said.

“Do what?”

Parmak turned around. “Silently stare at me.”

“Sorry,” said Leetvek. “I came to see how you were doing. You seem especially stressed today.”

“Perhaps,” said Parmak.

“How did the argument with Dr. Tan start?”

“One of her patients fainted in an exam room and Rukhaylan found him lying on his face in the middle of the floor. We were able to wake him, but what if he had been in cardiac arrest? What if he had died because she just decided he could wait half an hour while she was monologuing about her research?”

“So, she didn’t notice that her patient was unconscious because she took too long to go in and see them,” Leetvek summarized.

Parmak tilted his head yes and didn’t add anything.

“Do you think, perhaps, that part of what made you so angry was that you related to the patient’s situation?”

Parmak glared at him like he was daring him to explain what he meant.

“I’m referring to the heart attack you had only half a year ago. Rukhaylan also found you in a similar manner, did he not?”

“I was not Dr. Tan’s patient then. She had no responsibility towards me. This man was under her care.”

“Not her patient then- wait. Was she your cardiologist after your transplant?”

“Yes. Isn’t it ever so delightful to have to see your colleagues when you’re ill?”

Leetvek laughed. “Ah, speaking of which, I got referred to you again. Remind me to make an appointment to see you later.”

“What’s been troubling you?” asked Parmak, sitting up strait and reverting to his professional demeanor.

“Hey, hey, no, we are not changing the subject! I see what you did.”

Parmak smiled and gestured pretend frustration. “I’ve been thwarted,” he joked.

“Yes, you have. What was it like having Dr. Tan as your cardiologist?”

“You know how awkward it feels to have to wear a medical gown around me and let me examine you?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Now imagine, while you are half naked and vulnerable, I keep commenting on your… um, let’s say on the fact that you’re an amputee and saying that I think that you should just stay home and not bother continuing your career.”

“I would feel deeply uncomfortable, and I would be unlikely to bring up any other concerns I had about my health,” said Leetvek.

“Now imagine, despite it not being all that relevant, and while you are still lying vulnerable on my exam table mind you, I start asking you questions about your sex life.”

Leetvek coughed. “She did what now?”

“Well, it was slightly relevant in the way that any physical exercise is relevant to a cardiac patient, but she definitely went _way_ over the line, all while telling me that I ‘shouldn’t be doing that’ at my ‘advanced age’ and generally shaming me.”

“That’s definitely inappropriate. How did you respond to that?”

“I said: of all the ways to go, death by orgasm seems pretty good to me.”

Leetvek laughed so hard he had a coughing fit.

“She gave me this horrified look and changed the subject,” said Parmak, who was also laughing. “You know the face people make when they’re thinking about you having sex?”

“I don’t.”

“Perhaps it happens more if you’re in a same-sex relationship. Anyways, she made that face. You’re making it too now.”

“Well, you brought it up!” said Leetvek.

“It’s all right,” said Parmak. “We’re friends. You don’t shame me.”

He stood up. “Thanks for checking in on me. Sorry I was cold to you earlier.”

Leetvek wasn’t ready to let the conversation end just yet. “Kelas, could you sit down again please? I have something to say.”

Parmak’s smile disappeared. He sat back down.

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak’s heartrate increased. He looked at his hands. He knew already what Leetvek had to say.

“You’re burnt out,” Leetvek said, bluntly. “And I’m concerned about you and your patients.”

Parmak’s heart rate went up further. “I just need to go home and rest,” he said. “I’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”

“I’m not talking about Dr. Tan,” said Leetvek. “She needed to be confronted and, although I would have gone about it differently, I think it’s good that you stood up to her. You definitely could apologize for doing so publicly though.”

Parmak shifted in his chair. He couldn’t look Leetvek in the eyes.

“It seems you’ve been coming in already stressed every day. You don’t speak with as much empathy as you used to. Your patients have been becoming distressed at a much higher frequency and… and we’ve been getting some complaints lately.”

Parmak pressed his hands into his knees to stop them from shaking. He couldn’t speak.

“You care about your patients,” said Leetvek. “That’s always been plainly clear. You value every single one of them and go out of your way to find solutions to make their lives better. You have a strong heart Dr. Parmak. Which is why I know that you’ll take me seriously when I say that your patients are being impacted by the state of your mental health.”

“You’re saying I should retire,” said Parmak.

“I’m saying that _something_ needs to change. Perhaps retirement might be a good idea. You’re seventy-three, right? How many years have you worked for anyways? Surely you must be deserving of a break!”

Leetvek smiled. Parmak didn’t. He stood again and shouldered his bag. “I think,” he said quietly, “I need to go home.”

He left.

* * *

Doctor Kelas Parmak, Angst


	9. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parmak scares Garak.

If the subject had come up, Doctor Parmak would have told his patients to never _ever_ drive a skimmer while in a crisis. He would have said that it was a fantastic way to end up in a comma.

His fingers trembled at the controls. It was dark outside. Tears blurred his vision, making the lights of the intersection twinkle. He switched his upwards indicator on and waited for the directing-post to change in his favour. He brought his attention to his breathing and tried to calm himself. _in_ he said in his head, breathing in. _out. I just need to get home. In._ he took a big breath. _out. I’m going to be all right._

The directing-post changed. He moved into the intersection. His skimmer floated upwards. The colourful signs, with the names of the levi-ways spelled out in glowing letters, surrounded him in 360 degrees. _Route Pa’Dar to Coranum. Perek Memorial Way, East. Route Ghemor to Alkeen. Connection to Union Boulevard. Local route 12 through North Torr._

Parmak pivoted his skimmer to the right and sped off down Perek Memorial Way, the guide lights flashing past on either side. Above and below, the traffic flowed in every imaginable direction in the stacked levi-ways.

_I’ll be home soon. In… out. I’ll make myself some tea. In… out. Elim will come home eventually. In… out. Guls, I need Elim right now._

The skimmer ahead of him flashed its stop indicator and started to slow down. When Parmak didn’t react in time, his skimmer put on its emergency breaks and emitted a high-pitched warning. The inertia would have caused him to be thrown into his console had he not done up his seat restraints.

Parmak stared at the stopped skimmer ahead of him, picturing himself being decapitated by the rear of it smashing through his cab. _I need to pull over._

There was a skimmer-park in front of a grocery deport just a few blocks on his left. He turned on his left indicator and made to pass the stopped skimmer. Just as he was about to pull out, a hover-bike sped past him on his left. It startled him. He had not seen it coming.

His heart pounded through his thoughts. He started to hyperventilate. _Us’cut! I almost killed someone!_

The skimmer ahead of him started to move again. He turned on his damage signal and drove slowly until he could pull to the side of the levi-way and come down to the ground. He was shaking uncontrollably.

>>\----------o----------<<

Garak stared off into space as a member of the directorate droned on about how removing mandatory military training from schools was going to cause hordes of teenagers to roam the streets listlessly, spraying graffiti everywhere and jumping old women. His personal communicator buzzed in his hand.

He had a message from Parmak. _“Engine gave out. Have to get towed,”_ it said.

Garak pressed on the message and selected a sympathetic reaction face. He recorded a snippet of the speech the directorate member was giving while mocking him with his face. _“Breaking news Kelas,”_ he typed. _“Depriving the youth of the military experience will bring about the end of Cardassian society.”_

His phone buzzed once: eye roll reaction face, nothing more. Parmak had been kind of quiet all day. He only had been responding with one-word answers.

 _”How was your day?”_ Garak typed.

_”Awful.”_

No explanation followed. Garak frowned at the screen. Something was off.

_”Are you all right?”_

_”No.”_

Garak’s imagination filled with a million things that could be wrong. He worried perhaps he had upset Parmak somehow. He touched the arm of the counselor next to him. “Please excuse my absence. I need to make a private call.”

The counselor nodded in a bored manner. He would be barely missed. Garak went to his office and commed Parmak. Parmak did not answer.

 _”Where are you?”_ he typed.

No answer.

_”Please answer, love. I’m concerned.”_

Garak called his own residence to see if Parmak had gotten home safely. His staff said that Parmak wasn’t there. Garak started to regret insisting that his partner get an untraceable communicator. He tried to think of other ways to find his location without being melodramatic and calling the constabulary.

He called Rukhaylan. Parmak’s friend appeared on the view-screen of his terminal, holding a package of instant Taka bits in one hand, and a large spoon in the other. He looked puzzled to see Garak.

“I’m looking for Doctor Parmak,” said Garak. “He didn’t come home tonight.”

Rukhaylan’s expression darkened with worry. He set his package and spoon down. “He got into a conflict with another of our staff today. I think he stayed late with his friend.”

“Could you message his friend for me? I need to know that he’s safe.”

“Oh my god, is that the Castellan?” A short, energetic woman leaned into the view. She was holding a half pealed jurapi root.

“Doctor Parmak’s missing,” said Rukhaylan, pushing her away and pulling out his communicator.

“Maybe he’s out drinking with Leetvek again. Remember when they both came to work hung over?”

Garak frowned with worry. “Does he get drunk often?” he asked.

The small woman came back on the screen. “Not really, I mean it would be weird if he did it at work, right? So, I don’t know. I thought you were, like, basically his husband. Why are you asking me?”

“Ah, I simply know him to be of a cautious disposition so hearing of him getting drunk surprised me.”

“Juan, stop prying,” said Rukhaylan. To Garak he said, “He’s not with Leetvek.”

“Does he have any other friends?”

“Close friends? Not really. He’s fairly private.”

Garak tried comming Parmak again, and then tried the residence again. Parmak didn’t answer.

There was a knock at the door to his office. “Castellan? Your absence has become noticed. The directorate is proclaiming that you have greatly offended them.”

Garak turned to his aide. “My partner is missing,” he said, unable to subdue the anxiety in his voice.

“Oh, um… do… do you want me to tell them that? Or just say that you’re not feeling well?”

Garak commed Parmak again. “If he doesn’t answer, I’m going to call the hospital and ask if he’s there.”

“I’ll go with the second excuse,” said the aide, backing away.

>>\----------o----------<<

“You really should wear shoes in the kitchen. You could drop a knife on your foot.”

Avezi wiggled her toes at Rukhaylan. “How would I pick up all the other things I drop then?”

“With your hands like everyone else?”

“If I do that, you’ll make me wash them because I touched the floor.”

Avezi held a saucepan in one hand. She purposely dropped a spoon on the floor and picked it up with her toes. “I bet I can put it back on the counter.”

“How about putting it in the sanitizing unit instead.”

Avezi lifted her leg up high, her toes grasping the spoon. She stumbled a little and tipped a bit of the hot oil from the saucepan on her foot. Rukhaylan grabbed the saucepan from her before she dropped it.

“Ow, fuck!”

Rukhaylan picked her up and set her down on the counter next to the sink. “Foot in,” he ordered.

Avezi put her feet in the sink and Rukhaylan turned on the tap. The cold water removed the hot oil and soothed her burn.

“Did we learn our lesson?” Rukhaylan teased.

Avezi pouted. “Maybe.”

Rukhaylan turned the stove off. The food could wait. He went and got a dermal regenerator.

>>\----------o----------<<

“No one by that name has been admitted here tonight so far Castellan. If he is here, he could be waiting in the emergency department.”

Garak ended the call. _“Kelas,”_ he typed, _“I’m at the point of calling hospitals to search for you. I’m going to call the constabulary next. If you don’t want me to thoroughly embarrass you, you had better answer soon.”_

The head security guard of Garak’s residence notified him that Parmak’s skimmer had just been towed into the grounds. Parmak was still missing.

Garak called the constabulary and then left the assembly chambers to go and search for Parmak in Union Hospital’s emergency department.

>>\----------o----------<<

Avezi sat on the counter, her hands in Rukhaylan’s hair and her legs wrapped around his hips. Rukhayan's teeth were sunk into her neck ridge. He was completely still like he was in a trance, his breathing slow and deep. She wriggled against him and he held her firmly in his arms. Her heart fluttered excitedly.

“You know,” said Avezi, seductively into his ear, “I was hoping that maybe tonight we’d both want to take things _farther_ than we have previously. Did you know I’ve taken to carrying a contraceptive around in my pocket? Sometimes,” she whispered, “I even bring it to work.”

Rukhaylan chuckled into her shoulder. He let go of her neck ridge and nipped her ear. His voice was deep and soft. “You have no idea how badly I want you. I was worried you’d feel pressured if I brought it up first.”

“Mmm, that’s insssanely sssexy to me,” said Avezi, swaying and turning her neck in an inviting manner. “sssexy knowing you felt ssso desssprately _conflicted!_ ”

She reached into her pocket and flirtatiously ran the contraceptive package down Rukhaylan’s cheek. Rukhaylan beamed. He took the package and checked the date. “It’s not even expired,” he said, “or broken.”

Avezi laughed at how impressed and aroused he looked. She petted his hair. “You have weird turn-ons,” she said and kissed his chufa.

They were interrupted by the door chime. “Ugh, go away!” complained Avezi.

They both stayed still, waiting to see if whoever it was would let them be.

The door chimed again and Rukhaylan let go of Avezi. He gave her an apologetic look. “Whoever it is, they had better have a good excuse for visiting this late,” she grumbled.

Rukhaylan smoothed his clothes and hair before answering the door. Dr. Parmak stood on his doorstep.

“I’m sorry,” said Parmak. He wouldn’t meet Rukhaylan’s eyes. “My skimmer broke down and I left my communicator and pay-chip in it when it got towed. All of the stores are closed. I remembered your address from when I gave you dance lessons, so I came here because I couldn’t think of what else to do.”

His eyes were puffy, and his hair was a mess. He looked like he was going to cry. Every drop of annoyance drained out of Rukhaylan.

“Come inside. Your partner called earlier looking for you. He was pretty worried.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Garak stood in Rukhaylan’s entrance way and held Parmak tightly in his arms. Parmak sobbed against him while Garak whispered gentle validations.

Avezi stared at the Castellan. Rukhaylan elbowed her.

“Shall we go home now, love?” said Garak quietly, stroking Parmak’s hair.

Parmak took in a shuddering breath and nodded. Garak guided him out the door. He looked over his shoulder and mouthed ‘Thank you’ at Rukhaylan. Rukhaylan nodded and tapped his eye ridge, meaning ‘my duty is to Cardassia’ or ‘you’re welcome.’

He closed the door. Avezi pulled him into a hug from behind, her forehead touching in between his shoulder blades. She rested her cheek on his back and rocked him back and forth. She had never done that before. It was nice.

“Can I say something important?” said Avezi.

“Always.”

“I want that,” she said, “what they have. With you.”

Rukhaylan’s heart exploded with light. He turned around in her arms. She rested her chin on his sternum and looked up at him. His expression said everything.

“Come with me,” he said, leading her to his couch. “Sit.”

He went into his bedroom and came back with a thin, rectangular box. He sat down next to her and opened it. Inside was a light, colourful shawl, adorned with rija birds, a symbol of commitment. He took it out and held it in his hands, letting himself be completely vulnerable.

“Make a home with me.”

Avezi touched his cheek and took the shawl from him. She draped it around both of their shoulders. He put his hands in hers and they pressed foreheads together.

“I will.”

* * *

Kelas Parmak, Castellan Elim Garak, Post Cannon Cardassia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this story gets updated whenever I have assignments I'm supposed to be doing. If it's not obvious, I'm making it up on the spot so thanks for coming along for the ride <3
> 
> oh, and credit to Tinsnip and Vyc for that Cardassian swear word.


	10. Nothing In Between Life and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A re-telling of the night from Parmak's pov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **New Content Warning!** _If you are triggered by **suicidal ideation and intrusive thoughts,** please skip to chapter 11. I will provide a summary of this chapter, so you won’t miss anything. Doctor Parmak would be proud of you for taking care of yourself❤️ _

**New Content Warning!** See note above ^

After he had managed to get his skimmer safely off of the levi-way, Parmak had broken down completely.

He felt like he was drowning. No matter how much air he breathed in, it wasn’t enough. He tried to get his communicator out of his pocket, but he couldn’t feel his hands. The joints of his fingers were frozen, and he was physically unable to move them. He couldn’t undo his seat restraints. He couldn’t do anything. His vision filled with grey spots. his skin crawled with pins-and-needles. His chest heaved up and down like a mechanical set of billows with someone else in control. A wave of nausea washed over him. The grey spots completely covered his vision, and he slipped from consciousness.

He blinked. The lights of the road emerged from the greyness. The world came back into focus. A tap at his driver’s side window startled him. He turned his head. A patrol officer was looking in at him with a concerned expression.

Parmak moved his hands. They still felt prickly, but they were working now. He lowered his window. “Hi officer.”

“Sir, are you all right?”

Parmak made himself smile. “Yes, I’m all right. I’m just having engine trouble.”

The officer side-eyed him and took out a substance detection scanner. When he was satisfied, he tucked it away. “Are you sure you’re all right sir? You look ill.”

“I’ve had a long day,” Parmak said. “I’ll be fine.”

The patrol officer let him be and went back to his own skimmer. Parmak pulled out his communicator. His finger’s hovered over Garak’s name. _I need you,_ he thought, _I wish you were next to me right now._

He started typing a message and then deleted it. He settled for _“Engine gave out. Have to get towed.”_

He then sent a notification to the public towing service. _Pull yourself together Kelas,_ he thought to himself. _This is a huge overreaction to a bit of constructive criticism from a friend. Have some dignity._

He got out of his skimmer. His legs were shaky. He checked his communicator. Garak hadn’t said anything yet. He put it in the pocket of his dust coat.

The night air was cool on his face. The skimmers heading west back through the Torr sector on Perek Memorial Way swished past at chest level, guided by a line of levitating lights on either side. He took a step closer as if someone else were guiding him. The strands of hair that had fallen out of his fastening flailed with each gust of wind from the oncoming traffic.

Just three steps. He could almost touch them. How curious. There was nothing separating him from the wall of swooshing lights. Just three steps and nothing mattered anymore.

Parmak went to a dark place. Everything that he had tried to crush beneath the floorboards of his mind emerged, compacted into one jagged, misshapen beast that almost had a conscience of its own.

 _You have nothing left to contribute,_ it said. _No one needs you anymore. You’re broken and outdated. They shouldn’t have bothered to resuscitate you. How selfish of you to want to keep living._

Parmak took another step forward. He stood between the guide lights now.

His pocket buzzed. He reached into it. It was his communicator. Garak. The traffic swished past. He opened the message.

There was a video. Garak’s face looked down at the camera, glancing up at the assembly and back at him, making a ‘I can’t _believe_ this guy’ expression. The everyday familiarity of it was grounding. Tears streamed down Parmak’s cheeks. “Elim,” he said out loud, softly. “Help me.”

He typed and then deleted what he wrote. Instead, he just selected a reaction to Garak’s video and hoped that he’d send more.

He looked up at the traffic. He could feel Reshmi’s presence beside him. “You don’t want to,” she said.

“I don’t.”

“Come away from there. It’s not your time.”

He felt her hand on his arm. He let her pull him backwards. His communicator buzzed again.

_“How was your day?”_

Parmak burst out into dark laughter. _“Awful,”_ he typed.

_Elim._

It felt like eternity between messages.

_“Are you all right?”_

He stared at the question. _“I’m fine,”_ he typed.

His finger hovered over send. He couldn’t press it. He came to the terrifying realization that if he did, he was signing his own death certificate.

Parmak’s heart pounded. The world around him disappeared and went silent.

 _“No,”_ he replied. _I’m sorry Elim. I’m really not._

* * *

Kelas Parmak, Angst, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental Illness, Mental Health, Post Cannon Cardassia


	11. I'm not all right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Parmak argues with himself a lot and saves his own life.
> 
> Still dealing with the topic of suicide here, but it's not as intense.

Summary of Chapter 10:

* * *

_Chapter 10 was a retelling of part of chapter 9 from Parmak's perspective. Dr. Parmak goes to a very dark place and almost steps into traffic. He is struggling with self-worth, and he's started to internalize the agism he’s been experiencing in the workplace. He also has been repressing his feelings and is generally overwhelmed. Garak messages him and interrupts him. He is able to step away from the traffic._

* * *

The tow-transport startled Parmak when it latched onto his skimmer with a tractor beam. He watched it merge into traffic with his skimmer following behind it.

He looked around himself as if he were seeing his surroundings for the first time. Shock slapped him in the face. _What, in all of Cardassia, am I doing?!_

“Kelas,” he spoke to himself, imagining himself as his own patient. “You can’t stay here. You need to get yourself to some place safe.”

Parmak turned around. There was a low fence behind him that surrounded a small, empty skimmer-park. Beyond that were industrial buildings. Their windows were dark.

He could see the Torr Sector not too far off, back the direction he had come from. He started off towards the towers of apartment buildings with the low fence on one side of him and the levi-way on the other.

His communicator vibrated with an incoming call. He knew it was Garak.

“You should answer that,” he told himself.

“I don’t think I can. He’s going to want to know if I’m safe.”

“You’re not safe.”

Parmak imagined how Garak would react. “I don’t think I can bring myself to tell him that,” he said, his voice breaking.

His communicator started to vibrate again with an incoming transmission. He stopped walking and looked at the messages.

_“Where are you? Please answer, love. I’m concerned.”_

“Perhaps you should be,” he said darkly.

He stared at his communicator, fighting with himself. His hands switched it off and dropped it on the ground.

_Pick that back up._

_No._

Parmak started walking again towards Torr.

_Go back, pick it up and call the hospital right now._

Parmak laughed at himself. “Call the hospital? And tell them what exactly? Oh, who’s my patient? Its me actually. I want to off myself because I had a bad day at work and couldn’t handle a little criticism. Say, how’s your spouse and kids by the way?”

The doctor did not laugh with the patient. “Don’t invalidate yourself. There’s something more going on with you and you need help.”

Parmak stopped and turned around. His communicator was far away. _What has gotten into you Kelas? What is wrong with you? Look how silly you’re acting! Get it together._

“Now then, we are going into Torr, we are going to call for a lift, and then we are going straight to bed. Stop talking to yourself, it looks weird.”

He reached the beginning of a walkway. An apartment building towered next to him. It’s rows of hexagonal windows glowed with life. He turned and walked down a pedestrian street lit with glowing columns. Two people passed him, debating and laughing. He felt like a ghost drifting through the world of the living.

_Where are you going to go?_

He walked down the pedestrian street and came to an intersection. Local route 9 crossed the street he was on. A single skimmer passed him at a speed suited to a residential area. The name of the route sounded familiar.

 _Nurse Rukhaylan lives around here,_ he realized.

He looked up and down the street, trying to get his bearings. “Which way is west?” he asked someone passing by.

They seemed surprised to be spoken to. They pointed and turned down the pedestrian street.

Parmak set off at a brisk pace. He felt like he was floating. He tried to pay attention to his feet on the pavement to bring himself back.

“I want to live,” he said quietly.

Suddenly, he was running. _I want to live. I want to live. I want to live._

He turned down Turrel row. _Unit 235 apartment B._ He climbed the steps and came to Rukhaylan’s door out of breath. He stopped.

_It’s quite late. What are you doing here? You could have asked any of the people you passed to call a lift for you._

Parmak’s stomach turned over. He slowly reached out and pressed the door chime.

_You shouldn’t be here. He’s going to think it’s weird._

Moments passed. No one came to the door.

Parmak looked back at the street. _No. I’m here. I’m following through._

He pressed the door chime again. A light turned on inside. He heard footsteps and voices. Suddenly the door was wrenched open and he was face to face with his colleague and friend.

Rukhaylan looked surprised to see him. Excuses for being there poured out of Parmak’s mouth. “I’m sorry. My skimmer broke down and I left my communicator and pay-chip in it when it got towed. All of the stores are closed. I remembered your address from when I gave you dance lessons, so I came here because I couldn’t think of what else to do.”

Rukhaylan’s eyes traced over him, assessing. “Come inside,” he said. “Your partner called earlier looking for you. He was pretty worried.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak stood in the hallway. “Um, so we should go to my kitchen so that you can call your partner,” said Rukhaylan with an uncharacteristic amount of awkwardness. “It’s this way.”

Parmak noticed that his neck ridges were flushed dark. Avezi was in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, swinging her legs. There was food on the stove. He had obviously interrupted their romantic evening.

“Dr Parmak? Where the hell have you been? Castellan Garak called us! He looked terrible. Are you all right?”

Parmak smiled with his lips. “I am. Sorry for intruding. My skimmer broke down and I lost my personal communicator. I won’t be here long.”

“It’s over here.” Rukhaylan gestured to a small screen on the kitchen wall.

“Thank you,” said Parmak, not moving.

“You probably want some privacy. Right. Come on Avezi.”

Avezi hopped down off the counter and followed Rukhaylan out of the kitchen.  
Parmak stood there, staring at the screen. He stepped toward it and then stopped, his fingers hovering at the control panel. He couldn’t call him. He didn’t have enough energy to lie anymore, and he couldn’t bring himself to say how much he was suffering.

He sat down at a small table and just froze. _Please notice me._

Time crawled past. The lights of the kitchen seemed to grow brighter. Parmak closed his eyes.

He heard Rukhaylan pull out the other chair and sit down next to him.

“Doctor?”

Parmak stayed still. _Help me._

“You’re not all right are you.” It was a statement not a question.

Parmak bent his head and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. A tear ran down his nose.

He felt Rukhaylan gently take his hand. He closed his hand around Rukhaylan’s large fingers and held on.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Parmak couldn’t.

“Are you in danger?” asked Rukhaylan. “Is someone trying to hurt you?”

 _Well, technically,_ thought Parmak. He indicated no.

“Are you fighting with your partner? Is that why you won’t call him?”

“No,” said Parmak.

“What is it then?”

“I…” He opened his eyes and looked at Rukhaylan. “I need help.”

He felt a release at having said it out loud. He couldn’t make himself take it back now, especially since it was nurse Rukhaylan he had said it to. He looked down at the table.

“I’m here for you,” said Rukhaylan. “Let me help you.”

That made Parmak cry some more with relief. Rukhaylan rubbed his hand with his thumb.

“I can tell that you’re having a really hard time saying what you need to. It is strong to ask for help. We are stronger together than isolated in our own minds.”

Parmak tried to speak. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong. I have nothing to be upset about.”

Parmak could feel himself being scanned by Rukhaylan’s piercing eyes. “Are you feeling embarrassed?”

Parmak looked up. “Yes?”

Rukhaylan smiled. “Hey, you know what I do for a living. You don’t have to be embarrassed with me! I’m not going to judge you; I just want to help.”

“I- since my heart attack- I haven’t been all right, maybe I wasn’t before it either but…it’s been a lot. I just… it’s too much and I haven’t- I’ve been- my patients and I can’t do anything right and I should retire but I don’t- I’m selfish- I know I- there’s no point so… so I’m just not coping with it all and tonight… I… I almost… I…”

Parmak begged Rukhaylan with his eyes to understand him. “I almost… Leetvek just said and I… it was too much. It’s all been too much and I’m not… I shouldn’t have been driving. I had to pull over and then… I was just there by the levi-way and…”

Realization flashed in Rukhaylan’s eyes. “Doctor, are you suicidal?”

Parmak stared at Rukhaylan. _Yes. Yes, I am. Help me!_ He slowly inclined his head yes.

“Please don’t call the Union. I can’t…”

Rukhaylan did not make any promises. “How long have you been suicidal?”

“Just… I… suddenly… I hadn’t before and then…”

“Just suddenly tonight?”

“Yes. It hadn’t really occurred to me before. I didn’t have a plan, I just… and then Elim messaged me and I couldn’t.”

“I’m thankful he messaged you and that you’re alive right now. You’re important to me. What do we need to do to keep you safe?”

Parmak thought about it. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“You don’t want to. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“I don’t want you to either. What needs to be done to prevent that?”

“I don’t think that I need to go to the hospital. I just need to be taken home. I’m exhausted. I’d be safe at home. I’d just fall asleep.”

“So that’s what we’ll do tonight then. What about tomorrow? What needs to happen so that you don’t feel like stepping in front of a skimmer again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I need to talk to somebody. A counselor.”

“That’s a good first step. Do you want a referral?” Rukhaylan smiled at the last sentence.

“Actually yes,” said Parmak. “That would be helpful.”

“All right, I’ll make you one. Now, the next time you are in a crisis and thinking about suicide, what are some things you can do to keep yourself safe?”

Parmak smiled at how familiar this conversation was. He had been on the other side of it a fair number of times. “I could call someone.”

“Who are you going to call?”

“I don’t know. Not the hospital and not Garak, I couldn’t.”

“Maybe… a crisis line?” Rukhaylan raised his eye ridges and gave Parmak a humorous look.

Parmak laughed. “It’s weird to be the patient. Yes, I’ll do that next time.”

“Program it into your communicator when you get home so that you have it when you need it.”

_Right. My communicator. The one that’s lying by the side of Perek Memorial Way. Why did I do that?_

“Is it all right if I com your partner now and let him know where you are?”

“Yes. Guls, yes. He’s probably worried sick. I didn’t answer his calls.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Garak ran up the steps to the small apartment and knocked, then pressed the door chime.  
A young woman opened the door and ushered him in. “He’s in the kitchen with Rukhaylan.”

Garak pulled down his dust mask. Parmak emerged from what must have been the kitchen, still in his dust coat. He looked so tired and his eyes were puffy. He stared at Garak for a moment. Garak took a few steps forward. “Kelas?”

Parmak walked toward him. Rukhaylan followed him out of the kitchen. Garak looked from one to the other.

“Parmak has something he needs to tell you,” said Rukhaylan.

Parmak glanced back at his friend and then looked at Garak. Garak held him with his eyes.

“Elim, I’m not all right and I haven’t been for some time. Tonight, I almost committed suicide.”

Garak felt time stop for a moment. Then he took another step forward and reached out his arms. Parmak buried his face in Garak’s shoulder and Garak wrapped his arms around him tightly. “Thank you for telling me,” he said. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize just how much you’ve been suffering.”

Parmak sobbed against him.

* * *

Kelas Parmak, Mental Health, Post Cannon Cardassia


	12. The librarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reshmi gets a backstory and then joins Sarina Douglas (Julian's dead girlfriend) in the fridge apparently. Dang, this story doesn't have a lot of women. Sorry guys.
> 
> Content warning for execution. Also, Bashir watches Cardassian medical dramas.

**Content warning.** See chapter summary.

* * *

“You need to go back.”

Parmak lay on his side in bed, his blankets lovingly tucked around him. Garak sat at the edge. He gently brushed a strand of hair from Parmak’s face.

“I don’t want to,” Garak said quietly.

Parmak put a hand on his knee. “Cardassia needs you.”

Garak rested a hand on his partner’s back. “You need me.”

“I do.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“We both accepted the sacrifices.”

Garak smiled sadly and looked Parmak in the eyes. “I have made a multitude of sacrifices for Cardassia, and I regret so many of them. You are not a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

“If your bill doesn’t pass, our government could lose power in another election.”

“Perhaps,” said Garak.

“I’m just going to go to sleep anyways.”

“I know.”

Parmak tried to push Garak to get off of the bed. Garak stayed put. He chuckled. “You’re not getting rid of me Kelas.”

“You’re a fool.”

Garak gave Parmak a kiss on the cheek. “Go to sleep love. I’m staying with you tonight. Tomorrow we need to have an important conversation.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Elsewhere in the residence, Julian Bashir was up late watching a holo-book under his covers. He had gotten an entire box-worth of data-rods from his spontaneous, unannounced trip to the library. His topic of research was one that had eluded him many times in his career: Cardassian physiology. The Cardassians were so secretive about their own physiology that it had been almost impossible to treat Garak back on Deep Space Nine. When Garak’s implant had been turned off, a mysterious toxin started to build up in his blood, and his immune system completely imploded. Bashir had to travel all the way to Cardassia and beg for information on how to synthesize Cardassian white blood cells in order to save his friend’s life. Bashir still wasn’t sure to this day of the biological processes triggered that had almost led to Garak’s death.

He had suddenly realized, earlier that day, that, living on Cardassia, with a Cardassian doctor no less, was the perfect time to unravel the mysteries of Cardassian physiology.

He had run into a speedbump in his research that day so far. Any academic or professional level of text on Cardassian physiology at the library was restricted. One had to get special permission from a medical school or hospital in order to get access. He had settled for what was available. So far, his research material consisted of scholastic picture-books for children- still useful for learning terminology and getting a basic understanding- and surprisingly thrilling but possibly not-at-all accurate medical dramas.

When his support worker had found him and brought him home, he had spent hours looking out the front window waiting for Doctor Parmak to come back. When Parmak did not come home at his usual time, Bashir had refused to eat dinner and insisted on remaining at the window. He did not get up to stretch or use the refresher either. He ignored his support worker and didn’t get ready for bed. Doctor Parmak’s skimmer had been towed into the hanger, but still the Cardassian doctor had not shown up.

Finally, when it was past midnight, Garak’s sleek, black skimmer pulled into the hanger. Parmak was with him. Bashir leapt from his chair and dashed to the door. He bounced, partly from excitement and partly because he had been avoiding relieving himself.

Garak had his arm on Parmak’s back when they came in. Parmak did not smile at Bashir. He seemed lethargic and is eyes were wet. Bashir stopped bouncing and backed up.

“Hi Julian,” said Garak. “Kelas…” he looked at his partner who did not meet his eyes, “Kelas is going through something right now. I’m going to try to get him to eat some dinner and then put him to bed.”

Bashir furrowed his brow in concern. Garak helped Parmak out of his dust coat and ushered him into the kitchen. Bashir followed them and stood in the doorway, observing.

Parmak only ate a few bites of stew. Bashir went away to take care of his needs and then came back and sat down beside him. Garak sat on the other side.

“My dear doctor, am I to infer that you’ve stayed up late waiting for us to return? How was your day?”

 _K-e-l-a-s_ Julian signed.

“He’s signing your name,” Garak said to his partner.

“Hi Julian,” said Parmak tiredly. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling as energetic as you seem to be.”

_? You pain? Sick?_

“Um… Julian I…” Parmak put down his spoon. “I’m too tired to have this conversation again tonight.”

Worry spilled like ice water into Bashir’s stomach. _Okay,_ he signed.

“Have a few more bites, love,” said Garak.

Parmak waived his hand ‘no.’ The three of them sat in silence until Garak gave up and took Parmak to bed.

So, now Bashir felt worried and, to cope, he was staying up watching season one of _“Maloc’s Comprehensive Guide to Anatomy.”_ The team of medical staff in the fictional episode were trying to remove an undetonated Bajoran explosive from a patient’s abdomen. Meanwhile, three floors above, two other characters were making out in a supply closet. Bashir found the emphasis on teamwork over the ego of doctors a surprisingly enjoyable quality that made up for all of the lip service to the state. By the time he was halfway into season two, he was too numb to feel worried and he managed to fall asleep.

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak slept deeply, almost as if he were in a druged state, for the first half of the night as his body restocked all that his panic attack had depleted. Then he started dreaming. The dreams started off vague. Strings of cars turned to cars on a string. Rows and rows and rows of apartments in a never-ending loop. Floating and being unable to touch the ground no matter how hard he tried.

Parmak drifted back into consciousness. He turned over and rearranged his pillow. Garak was next to him. Parmak felt a warm puff of air on his hand from Garak’s gentle breathing. He closed his eyes.

Reshmi’s face materialized before him. He took her hand, and they entered a decrepit apartment building. The ceiling panels were crumbling, and the hall lights were dim. One flickered. They walked up three flights of stairs. The stairwell smelled of mold and dust.

They stepped into Reshmi’s family home. It was colourful and full of music and chatter. It smelled of siji spice and fried buiyat. Parmak suddenly found himself surrounded by a circle of Reshmi’s aunties.

“Oh, he’s handsome!”  
“Tizaal, look at the boy Reshmi brought home!”  
He was spun around and patted on the shoulder by eleven different hands. Someone touched his hair. “Eeek! They’ll make such cute babies!”  
“Emla, hush, you’re embarrassing her. She’ll never bring a boy home again!”

Reshmi pulled Parmak, who had gotten very warm suddenly, through the crowd that had gathered. She flashed him an apologetic look. “Titi’en please,” she said to her aunties, “He’ll never want to come back!”

They wound their way through the maze of the intergenerational apartment. Cousins darted past. Uncles stood up from their chairs to get a better look at him. They almost got corralled into a sitting room full of Reshmi’s older aunts and grandmothers, but they escaped.

“Now you see why I never invite you home,” said Reshmi when they had finally made it to safety.

Parmak laughed. “This reminds me of visiting my family in Nokar, although none of my Titi’en ever grabbed my ass.”

“They did what?” exclaimed Reshmi, “I’m so sorry, I need to have a talk with some of them.”

Reshmi’s tiny and irregularly shaped room was more of a library than a bedroom. It was filled floor to ceiling with old-fashioned books and boxes of data rods. There were a few sleeping mats rolled up in a corner and a desk beneath a skinny window. Reshmi unfurled one of the sleeping mats and offered it as a place to sit.

“I can’t wait to show you what I found at the archives,” said Reshmi, rummaging through boxes. “I can’t believe how easy it is to smuggle this stuff home! I mean, it’s not like anyone is using it. It’s all just sitting there, filed away, collecting dust.”

Reshmi worked at a branch of Cardassia’s academic archives as a librarian of sorts. She spent her days digitizing old records. Every flier, magazine, notice or poster created in Cardassia city was filed away in the archives along with books, news articles and artwork. There were even people’s personal mail and shopping lists. Reshmi had once even found a lunch note . The archives went back at least 300 years. Some of it crumbled to dust as soon as it was touched.

Reshmi handed Parmak a stack of what looked like magazines. He picked up the one on top. It was wrinkled and looked at-least fifty years old. Reshmi was staring at his face, waiting for a reaction.

The cover was plain black with white, elegant script. “Atypical Temptation,” it read.

Parmak opened it and then dropped it like it had burned him. Reshmi burst into laughter. “You’re very welcome,” she said.

“Oh my… For the love of… Reshmi! This is explicit! And that’s not a woman, that’s… stars above… how does that even work?”

Reshmi, who had fallen over from laughing, sat up. “It’s all right Kelas,” she said. “I’m your friend. I know what you like.”

Parmak’s heart was thundering in his chest. His mouth hung open. His cheeks were hot. Reshmi reached out her hands to him as if he were a jittery riding hound. “Hey,” she said, her voice losing its laughter, “You’re safe with me.”

“How… how did you know?” he said quietly.

Reshmi reached for a magazine from a different pile and opened it. She held it at an angle in a way that Parmak could discretely see what she was looking at. “Believe me, I know,” she said.

On the page, two women softly traced each other’s naked bodies with their hands. Parmak picked up the magazine he had dropped and they both sat in companionable silence.

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak shifted in his sleep, turning onto his back. He settled into a new dream. They were outside Reshmi’s apartment building. He and Reshmi were packing boxes of books and data rods into his skimmer. Reshmi was crying. There was a huge sign in front of the building: _‘Slated for Demolition by the Department of Family Housing Coordination.’_

“They let it fall apart,” she said angrily. “Those bastards! They couldn’t stand having Elari families living peacefully in their city.”

Parmak looked around nervously and ushered Reshmi into his skimmer. “I don’t care if they hear me!” raged Reshmi.

The dream faded into a new scene. Parmak’s tiny, dorm-style apartment was stuffed floor to ceiling with boxes of Reshmi’s belongings. Reshmi sat at his desk, painstakingly writing characters backwards onto a plate of flexi-board with a medical epoxy and syringe she had gotten from her friend. She and Parmak were silent. Parmak new for a fact that his apartment, like most on Cardassia prime, was bugged by the Obsidian Order. Reshmi turned around and looked at him. _Finished,_ she signed.

The next day, they used the stamp to make three hundred copies which hung to dry on every available surface. Parmak, Reshmi, and three of Reshmi’s former neighbors divided the papers between them. _Justice,_ signed Reshmi. The others repeated the sign, gathering their courage. Then they parted ways.

>>\----------o----------<<

“Just because we didn’t get caught last time, doesn’t mean we’ll succeed again,” hissed Parmak.

Reshmi had a new stack of incriminating fliers in her hands. They were at her new, single occupant apartment. “But what if?” she said.

“What if?”

 _Imagine,_ Reshmi signed. _Imagine Cardassia rising up. Imagine (the) change._

Parmak took a flier and read it.

 _Imagine having (the) opportunity (to) enjoin with someone you feel for. Imagine raising hatchlings with him,_ she signed. _Cardassia needs change._

Parmak’s heart rate increased. He held out his hand for more fliers.

>>\----------o----------<<

_Blue eyes. The floor fell out beneath him. The execution machine turned and twisted, its arms reaching._

_And then he was made of stone, a statue in a crowd of spectators. Reshmi touched his shoulder. Her hand was quivering. “I forgive you,” she said. “Live Kelas. Promise me.”_

_“I promise,” he whispered as she was led away._

_The execution machine took her head off like it was nothing more than a bottle cap._

Parmak’s eyes snapped open. His heart was pounding. The execution machine whirred and clinked. Reshmi’s head popped off like a doll’s, again and again. He struggled with his blankets and cried out, stumbling out of bed. The blankets caught at his feet and he fell. He barely felt his wrist snap. Pop went her head.

Someone touched his arm. “Kelas? What’s wrong?”

Blue eyes caught the pale, morning light from the window. Parmak used the wall to get to his feet. “Stay away from me! Get away!” he yelled.

Garak backed up. Parmak bolted out the door of their bedroom. He wasn’t aware of where he was going; he just had to escape.

>>\----------o----------<<

“Kelas? Are you out here?”

Parmak heard Garak calling for him, but he couldn’t move. He tried to make himself feel the rain splattering onto his skin. Mud from the garden squished through his bare toes. The leaves of the bush next to him scratched his arm. He focused on it all and tried to squeeze the execution machine out of his mind.

He could see Garak through the branches of the bush. The morning light was filtered grey through the clouds. Garak said something to the security guard next to him, and the guard left.

Suddenly their eyes met. Parmak closed his tightly and pulled himself into a ball. _No, no, no, no, no. Don’t come closer._

_“He’s worried about you,” said Reshmi._

_No, no, no._ He knew, if he looked, she’d be headless.

“Kelas?” Garak peered behind the bush, keeping his distance. Parmak pushed himself further behind the bush. It grabbed at his arm. _Stay away Elim. I’m sorry. Just stay away._

_You’re acting weird. What’s wrong with you?_

“Stay away,” Parmak muttered under his breath.

_You’re useless. If you’re not going to do anything, you should just hurry up and die._

“No.”

Parmak hummed and rocked to try to drown out the intrusive voice. He felt nauseous and light-headed. The rain trickled down the back of his neck.

>>\----------o----------<<

“H-hey.”

Parmak didn’t recognize the voice.

“K-kelas? Hey.”

He opened his eyes. Gentle, brown ones looked back at him. Bashir offered his hand. Parmak didn’t take it, but he unfurled himself a little.

Bashir held out five fingers and then pointed to his eye. _Five things you see._ Parmak took in a shaky breath.

“I see you. I see my hands. I see- no, no, leave me alone Reshmi. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t look at you. I’m sorry.”

 _? You see R-e-sh-m-i?_ signed Bashir.

“She’s dead. They won’t stop killing her. She doesn’t have… I need her to leave. I can’t stand to see her without her head.”

_? See her where?_

Parmak pointed next to himself, keeping his eyes on Bashir.

_? How (can) I help?_

“I don’t know. I don’t know why this is happening to me. I just want it to stop.”

_? How (would) you help (a) patient?_

“I can’t help my patients. I can’t even help myself.”

_We try again. Five things besides your friend. Look. ? What you see?_

“I see you. I see the plant next to me. I feel mud on my feet. I feel myself breathing.” His sleeping clothes were soaked through with rain. He touched his own arm. “My wrist hurts.”

Bashir cautiously reached out. Parmak let him examine his wrist. It was starting to swell. He pushed his own fingers into it and focused on the pain. _Stop,_ signed Bashir, and took Parmak’s other hand.

Parmak let go. The intrusive voice came back. _Why are you hurting yourself? What’s wrong with you? Don’t be so dramatic._

“Be kind to me,” Parmak said to the voice. “I deserve kindness.”

Bashir smiled at him.

 _He’s laughing at you, you know,_ said the voice.

“No, he isn’t. Shut up.”

Parmak made himself reach out for Bashir’s hand and take it. “Please bring me inside."

Bashir put an arm around him and helped him get to his feet. They were both drenched and muddy. Parmak held on to Bashir’s arm to stop himself from slipping, and they headed back towards the residence.

* * *


	13. There will never be another you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Bashir and Garak take care of Parmak. Also, Garak and Parmak listen to rap.

Parmak walked with his eyes squeezed shut and let Bashir guide him. He hummed a note that turned into more of a groan or a whine, trying to be louder than his mind. He could sense Reshmi walking next to him.

_Please go away. I’m sorry Reshmi. I’m sorry. Please go way._

He heard the door open in front and close behind them. He felt the tiles of the dust room turn to smooth, polished floor. Bashir guided him left in the direction of the kitchen, and the floor changed to tiles again. A chair scraped behind him. Bashir guided him into it. Parmak could feel his sleep clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin. At least it was distracting. Water trickled from his garments down the sides of his legs. He was shivering. Bashir wrapped a towel around him.

He heard Garak’s voice off to his right. Garak was keeping his distance. “Julian’s trying to talk to you,” he said. “He’s saying that listening to music sometimes helps to distract from hallucinations. He’s asking what your favourite song is.”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” said Parmak.

Garak’s voice was gentle. “It’s all right. I’ll pick something you like then, perhaps some of that unusual Terran-inspired talking-music you’re always listening to.”

Parmak smiled just a little at his partner’s description of what humans called rap. Garak turned on a Cardassian cover of a nearly 400-year-old song called ‘One Day at a Time’ by an ancient human poet, 2Pac of Earth.

Parmak gestured _louder._ He made Garak crank it so loud that he could feel the base vibrate through his chest.

_… I keep hoping please,_

_if you prefer to breathe_

_Communities in need_

_of people that will lead_

_Keep your eyes open now,_

_can only say I'll try_

_Until the day I die,_

_I promise to be wise_

_With my heart open…_

Parmak relaxed a little, but kept his eyes closed because Reshmi might still be around. He heard Bashir pull up a chair next to him and felt him apply a cold compress to his swelling wrist. He focused on the words and the rhythm until the music filled up his mind.

_… There will never be another me_

_and no matter what they do_

_There will never be another you_

_You can search but you'll never find_

_You can try to rewind time_

_But in your hearts and your minds,_

_we will never die_

_We are forever alive_

_and we continue growing_

_one day at a time_

>>\----------o----------<<

Garak brought Bashir a wet cloth and a bathrobe. Bashir cleaned the mud off of Parmak’s hands and then legs and feet. Parmak opened his eyes and watched him.

 _? I help you take off wet clothes and put on you bathrobe?_ suggested Bashir.

Kelas inclined his head yes.

Bashir reached under Parmak’s towel and undid the front of his gown. He pulled it down off of Parmak’s shoulders and gently helped him free each hand. He used the towel to make sure Parmak’s upper half was fully dried off, and then helped him slip his arms into the sleeves of the bathrobe. Parmak stood up and held on to Bashir’s shoulder for support. He stepped out of his wet clothes. Bashir tied the bathrobe around him and gave him a hug. Parmak held onto him like he was drowning.

Bashir met Garak’s eyes and his went wide. He stood straighter and loosened his hold on Parmak.

Garak smiled warmly. _Thank you for loving him,_ he signed to Bashir. _Please don't stop._

Bashir looked surprised and… was that bashfulness? Garak smirked. _How interesting._ He filed that information away for a happier time. Bashir wrapped his arms fully around Parmak and affectionately rubbed his back. He pressed his cheek against Parmak’s temple and closed his eyes. He rocked him a little, side to side.

>>\----------o----------<<

“Should we take him to the hospital or to a clinic?” Garak asked Bashir.

 _Hospital if this doesn’t decrease soon. Otherwise, clinic for hand and for assessment. Then see primary care doctor_ , signed Bashir who now had his noise cancelling headphones on to cope with Parmak’s loud music.

Parmak had gotten back into bed. He had his eyes closed. Garak and Bashir were standing in the hallway. Bashir tapped his arms the way he did when he was stressed. _Too loud. I need break,_ he signed.

“Of course,” said Garak. “Thank you, doctor.”

Bashir left and Garak stood in the hall alone. Sadness crept into him. It was hard to see Parmak suffering and it was harder still to know that many years ago he had set into motion the events that traumatized his partner. He didn’t let himself cry. It was not time to indulge in such impulses when Parmak still needed him. He pulled up a chair and watched over his partner from the hallway.

>>\----------o----------<<

Parmak reached out and dialed down his music to a more pleasant volume. His mind felt numb and, thankfully, blank. He was hungry and his wrist hurt, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. He thought about sleeping again, but he was worried that he’d have another nightmare. His music soothed the part of him that was angry and in pain from injustice without him having to dwell on memories. He liked songs about resistance and songs about enduring and rising up. Some of the human doctors he had worked with, back when the Federation was providing aid to Cardassia, had introduced him to music from their home world.

After a while, Garak came into the room. “May I come near you?” he asked.

Parmak beckoned him closer and pulled on his sleeve. Garak sat down on the bed. Parmak turned his music down low.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“There is nothing you need to apologize for, love,” said Garak.

Parmak closed his eyes again.

“Where would you like me to take you? Your choices are the hospital or a clinic.”

Parmak groaned. “I’m tired Elim.”

“I know. I’m sorry Kelas. You need to see a doctor.”

“I am a doctor,” grumbled Parmak.

“That doesn’t count, and you know it!”

Parmak pulled his blankets over his head. Garak sighed. “Do you want to have something to eat first?”

“Do I want something to eat? Yes.”

Garak brought him some breakfast: tea and warm, bean cereal. “Come on, sit up.”

Parmak reluctantly pulled the covers off of his head and slid himself into a sitting position. Garak held his bowl for him. Eating did make him feel a bit better. He had to use his non-dominant hand because of his broken wrist. He put down his spoon and picked up his tea.

“What is this we are listening to?” Garak asked. He picked up the baseball-sized cube on Parmak’s bedside table that controlled the music. He read the title and then squinted at it and read it again. “Have Sex with the Constabulary by N.W.A. Guls, Kelas, your taste in music bewilders me.”

Parmak took a sip of tea. “It’s metaphorical sex I believe.”

“Ah, that makes all the more sense,” said Garak sarcastically.

Parmak was a bit more open to the idea of going to a clinic after he finished his tea. Garak helped him get dressed and brought him more ice for his wrist. They went to the clinic in Paldar where Parmak’s primary care doctor was. A doctor from the walk-in clinic set his wrist and healed it with an osteo-regenerator. His primary care doctor was able and willing to see him in the evening, so they went back. She prescribed him an antidepressant to take every day and a sedative for panic attacks. Garak helped Parmak make an appointment to see a counselor at the mental health clinic Nurse Rukhaylan had suggested.

At the end of their exhausting day, Garak and Parmak crawled into bed. “I’m worried that, when I fall asleep, I’ll dream about her again,” Parmak said.

Garak held his hand and pressed his forehead against Parmak’s. Parmak pressed back.

“Do you know what it was that caused your memories to be dredged up?”

Parmak new but he didn’t want to explain. “I guess I should have taken better care of myself,” he said instead. “I just burnt out.”

He closed his eyes. She was waiting for him of course, but he had a plan now. It was going to be hard, and take time, but he had managed to get help for himself. He wasn't facing her alone.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have Sex with the Constabulary = Fuck the Police


End file.
